


Prisoner of Love

by snowin_you



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Sexual Assault, Alternate Universe - Prison, Coarse Languages, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, M/M non-con situations, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:51:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 111,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowin_you/pseuds/snowin_you
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destiel Prison AU. Castiel is a new convict and a new cellmate to a dormant Dean Winchester, who turns savage in the dead of night. Amidst a mess of twisted fate, misunderstandings and wrong decisions, they find themselves confined to prisons within prisons of their own weaknesses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to My World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verucasalt123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or its characters. This story is entirely fictional and does not reflect any real situations nor assumes such incidents would happen in any Correctional Facilities. The author by no means promotes, supports or tolerates non-consensual sexual activities of any kind.
> 
> A/N: Originally written for **verucasalt123**. Title was taken from a song by Utada Hikaru, which in turn is the theme song for this awesome Japanese drama called 'Last Friends'. Watch it if you can!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is beta'ed by alittlebitwicked. Thank you for your help!

Castiel Milton was brought to the seventh cell down the hall. It was a 6x8 feet cage with nothing but one bunk bed and something someone would call a cat's toilet, to put it nicely. His cellmate was lying very still on the top bunk, not wincing at the sound of the buzzer alerting the guards and prisoners alike that a door was being opened.

The guard told Castiel to step in and stop at the yellow line. He did as he was told and as soon as the guard announced that the prisoner was secure, the buzzer went off again. Then the door clinked closed, its sound echoing through the hall. Castiel stood awkwardly in his orange scrubs, holding what little possessions the guard handed to him as his survival kit. His cellmate, whom he never got a name, was keeping perfectly still. He seemed not to notice him, or maybe he just didn't care, as if Castiel was nothing but dusts in the wind.

For a horrifying moment, Castiel thought the guy might be dead, so he inched closer. The guy had short, dirty blonde hair and a strong jaw. His complexion was darkened by suntan, the kind of tan you get when you spend long and hard hours sweating in scorching sun. The savagery of his looks was highlighted by his rough stubble. Castiel raised one hand up, intending to feel his pulse, when suddenly he noticed a slight movement in the man's chest. It was the slightest of slight movements, almost unnoticeable, but it was there.

Castiel gasped and quickly retracted his hand. He should have known better. If he wanted to survive his sentence, he needed to learn whom he should approach, or better still, whom he shouldn't.

He resolved to throw his things on the lower bed and flopped down on it. Castiel let out a sigh of relief once his back touched the not-so-comfy-but-better-than-nothing mattress. It was past dinnertime, and if his cellmate remained as he was, Castiel would have a 12-hour of peaceful rest before morning came and battles began.

Only if life were that simple.

~:~:~

Castiel was jostled awake by a sudden weight on his chest. He let out a cry but it was muffled by one calloused hand that covered his mouth entirely. He fought to get up but his arms were quickly shoved behind his back and he felt a knee stomped hard on his chest. He choked for breath and with this much pain he sincerely believed one of his ribs must have been broken.

Even though his eyes were wide with panic, in the dark he could only make out a silhouette, so he had no idea who his perpetrator was.

"Calm down. I'm not gonna hurt you," the man said next to his ear, loud enough for only Castiel to hear.

With free legs Castiel tried to wrestle out of the man's restraint. For one brief moment, he managed to shout for help at the top of his lungs before he was suffocated again by a wad of cloth. Everything after that went really fast and hard and before he knew it, his hands were bound to the headboard and his feet to the posts at the end of the bed.

The man moved back as if to enjoy his piece of art. From this angle, with a little help from outside light, he could make out the strong jaws and the stubble. It was his cellmate.

Castiel struggled with all his might to break out of bond. His cellmate was a psychopath! He needed to get out of here. Now!

"Now, now," the lunatic spoke. He had a way of keeping his voice low so that no one would hear. How many times had he done this? What happened to his previous cellmates? Terrifying possibilities that came up in his mind weren't helping in this situation. The guy leaned in closer and it was only so far that Castiel could back away. "Do you really think someone would come to your rescue at this hour? In this cell?"

There was something in his voice. No, there wasn't something in his voice. There was no intimidation.

"Castiel, right?" he asked, merely inches away from him.

Castiel nodded, still trying to back away from the man, even if it was to no avail.

"I'm Dean. Dean Winchester," Dean said next to his ear. His hands crept up on Castiel's bare skin under his scrub top. "After tonight, you will _never_ forget my name."

Castiel screamed but it went silent in his muffled throat. He was going to get raped, on his first night in prison, by his own cellmate.

The bed shook thunderously under his tussle. Dean's hands roamed all over Castiel's chest and he shoved his top up above his head. It hung loosely around his wrists where he was tied to the bed, his torso bare and open. Dean kissed the curves of his naked shoulders. His breath hot, his stubble jagged against his skin.

By now Castiel was sure Dean was right. If help were going to come, it would have come long ago.

At this realization, Castiel stopped fighting. He resigned himself to this unwanted proposition. Warm streaks of tears ran down his face, and for the first time he was glad his mouth was gagged. No one could hear his pitiful sobbing.

"Shh," Dean hushed him. "Don't cry," he said, kissing the tears away. Castiel should be _disgusted_ , but the kiss was so gentle he could melt into it. Or maybe his crooked, perverted mind, reeling with shock of it all, had malfunctioned altogether. "I'm not going to hurt you," Dean continued. "I want you to enjoy this."

The hell he would enjoy being raped by another man.

Dean took his time planting small kisses all over his body. After some time, Castiel started to think it might not be that bad, if this was all Dean was going to do. That is, until Dean found his sensitive spots, and Castiel shuddered every time Dean brushed past them. Castiel could feel Dean smirked onto his skin when suddenly Dean attacked those spots with precise accuracy, as if Dean had them all mapped and charted, and this time Castiel wriggled not from fear, letting out muffled, shameless moans.

Unbelievably, Castiel was half-hard, and he hated Dean Winchester more than anything.

After Dean seemed satisfied with his upper body, he shoved Castiel's pants down to his ankle in one swift motion Castiel didn't even have time to gasp. Now he was fully exposed.

Dean grinned wickedly. Castiel couldn't see it, but he _knew_ Dean was grinning wickedly.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it, Cas," Dean said, again with the volume of his voice attuned only for the two of them.

Wait a minute. Did he say, 'Cas'?

If he had the ability to speak, he would retort sharply, but he didn't. And when Dean dropped down by his bed, taking his cock in his mouth, Castiel could only fight so hard and scream so loudly.

"Shh, Cas," Dean hushed him once more, pinning his hips down on the mattress. "I'm not going to hurt you. You need to trust me on this."

Trust him? Trust the man who was going to rape him?

Dean's two arms were too strong for him, even when he struggled for his dear life. Castiel's hips were locked in place while Dean resumed sucking his cock. His limbs were writhing frantically, tightening the knot where he was bound to the point that it hurt. After some time, he again resigned himself to this violation and gave up his useless struggles.

So there he was, lying on his prison bed, hands and feet tied up while his cellmate was giving him a blowjob. When he was no longer struggling, the only sound he could make out in the dead of the night was the sound of Dean sucking, and it did something to his twisted, demented mind. Castiel never had a guy give him head before, but he would be lying if he said Dean wasn't any good. Hell, he was fabulous: the way his soft lips curved around the sensitive skin of his cock and not the slightest grate of teeth, the way his tongue added just right amount of pressure and moved just at the right angles, the way Dean can deep-throat him, letting his cock down the very tight heat of his passage. Castiel had no idea how Dean could do that without gagging, but it did feel _so_ good.

Castiel could hear someone panting and it took him a moment before he registered that it was actually him. He had no idea when Dean had removed the gag from his mouth, but now he was writhing and whimpering and he wished Dean would return the gag so he wouldn't have to bite his lips to suppress his moans until he bled. He tasted the foul copper in his mouth. He felt his balls tightened, his stomach churning and then his body went into a spasm while he shot pearly cum on his stomach with unsuppressed moans that echoed through the hall.

"Goodnight, Cas. You did great," Dean said pecking at his lips. A soft, warm touch that was not enough.

Castiel longingly inched forward, but Dean was long gone to his top bed, leaving him in his disgraceful posture.

The new convict cried himself silently to sleep. Now that the entire building heard him, he would have to become a prison whore. He wouldn't survive his sentence.

~:~:~


	2. Came Back Haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is beta-read by **alittlebitwicked**. Thank you for your help!

Castiel was again jolted awake by blaring morning call. For a moment, he thought he was in the comfort of his own bed in his apartment when slowly the unfamiliar light and noises began to sink in. Flashes of last night's memories came rushing in and he got up, startled. To his relief, he was neither bound nor naked. There was no trace of sticky cum on his stomach as he feared there would be. If bruises on his wrists and ankles were not evident, he would have concluded that it had all been a very, very bad dream.

The bed shook and Castiel pressed himself back to the wall as far as he possibly could. His cellmate – yes, he was right, Castiel couldn't forget his name – Dean Winchester, jumped down from the top bed with a step as light as a feline. He walked out, passed the open bars, didn't even spare a look at Castiel from the corner of his eyes.

Castiel decided to remain in his cell. He could survive without food for a day or two, or weeks if that had to be. He wouldn't survive sexual assaults from dozens of inmates.

Half an hour later he was yanked out of his cell by a prison guard. Apparently, no one was allowed to the comfort of his own bed during 'public' period.

He tried to tell the guard that he was harassed last night, but the guard seemed to pretend to be deaf. Castiel's heart beat loudly in his ears as he was dragged nearer and nearer to what seemed to be a common canteen. He could hear clangs and bangs of kitchenware and low hums of men talking and buzzing. He could see men – big, scary men – in orange scrubs walking here and there through small windows of the canteen doors. Castiel was certain he was walking to his death chamber.

The doors were pushed open and Castiel froze where the prison guard had left him. One pair of eyes landed on him, and then two, three and soon every pairs of eyes were locked on him as the canteen went dead silent. The erratic beating of his own heart echoed through the hall.

There he was, at the far corner of the canteen, Castiel's archenemy sat high on the table. Dean Winchester gazed at him from afar. Even from this distance, he could clearly see the enigmatic green of his orbs. Dean had a body of a warrior, and a determination on his face of a fighter.

"Are you going to stand there forever?"

Castiel jumped at the voice. Someone small, with a bushy, dark hair just walked past him. He stopped only a few feet away, turning back to him with bulky blue eyes.

"Are you eating or what?" He snapped, then turning to walk away again.

Castiel instantly followed. He had no idea who the guy was, but it definitely beat being stared at by 200 pairs of eyes.

Once Castiel moved, the room began to return to its previous state. Inmates resumed their walking or talking or whatever it was they were doing earlier. Noises again filled the room.

The new convict imitated everything the bushy inmate did, getting the tray, getting the food and walking to sit at a table. The three inmates who previously sat there quickly grabbed their trays and moved to another table once the two of them sat down. The bushy inmate didn't seem to care.

Castiel could still feel Dean's gaze on him. He wanted to move to another table where something could block the gaze away, but as he scanned the room, he realized that wasn't possible. Apparently, the corner Dean was occupying had a full view of the entire canteen. No one could escape him.

The bushy inmate swiftly swallowed his food. Castiel picked at his bread and soup, still feeling a little woozy at the new experiences.

"If you wanted to survive this prison, you'd better start fighting for yourself," the bushy inmate said with a mouth full of food.

Castiel snorted looking at Dean's direction. Emerald eyes stared back at him. Wasn't fighting what he had been doing all night?

"It's not Dean you need to fight with," he continued.

Castiel suppressed the urge to yell and scream and knock down the whole table. If it wasn't for Dean-

"I'm Chuck, by the way."

Castiel flinched. Alright, this was not the time to fume over his rage. He needed to make friends first. It might be his only chance.

"Castiel."

"Yes, I heard you."

Castiel felt his cheeks burn. 'Heard'? As in-

"I'm serious," Chuck said, getting up, "start eating," he passed his leftover meat balls onto Castiel's plate, "and build some muscles. I don't wanna see another dead body in here."

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Chuck had already walked away. He was left there, alone, with questions unanswered. What dead body? Chuck was like the skinniest guy here, how could he tell him to 'build some muscles'? His eyes unintentionally landed at Dean again, and suddenly he realized Chuck was right. If he wanted to survive, he needed to start fighting for himself.

Castiel swallowed down his food. With Chuck gone, he had nobody else to look at but Dean. He avoided looking at other inmates as it would be much wiser to have one enemy at a time. Dean seemed amused watching him eat. Then Castiel bit into something hard inside one of the meat balls.

He quickly turned his back on Dean and slowly spat out the food. There was a paper clip in there, possibly intended for one of the other inmates, but he didn't care. It was a sharp object, and sharp object was a gem in this place.

~:~:~

The rest of the day went by painfully. Chuck didn't join him for lunch or dinner, nor did any other inmates. Castiel observed, much to his surprise, that everyone kept their distance from him, six feet at least. (He discreetly measured.) He had no idea what to make of it, but he could live by himself for the rest of his sentence if he had to. Dean only kept his eyes on him in the common area. In the privacy of their cell, he was nothing more to Dean than a speck of dust, which Castiel was glad. He could quietly contemplate how to defend himself with tiny paper clip if Dean decided to attack him again. He also practiced push-ups on his mattress, which shook the whole bunk bed, but he didn't care. It beat doing it on the floor and exposed himself (and his ass) to Dean anyway.

Then came the time Castiel was dreading the most: shower time. He rushed to find Chuck. He had to find Chuck. Once Castiel had found him, he stayed close to him. He didn't care if Chuck thought he was a pervert. Castiel quickly stripped, put a towel around his waist and followed Chuck to the shower area, when a big, black guy stood with arms crossed, blocking his way. Chuck didn't stop walking and soon he disappeared from Castiel's sight.

The big guy looked down at him with a creepy smile that showed his bright, white teeth. Castiel tried to keep his composure calm. He could not let anyone see his fears, not in here. He straightened his shoulders and kept his chin up.

"Leave him be, Uriel." A voice came up from behind, but Castiel didn't look to see who it was. Uriel started to laugh dryly, taking a few steps away from him.

"I'll play with you later, kitten."

Castiel ran to the shower. He hoped nobody, especially Uriel, saw how he shuddered at the ugly remark directed at him. He ducked his head under the cool spray of water and kept it there, because his eyes were spilling warm streaks of tears. He was shaking, but hopefully everyone would think it was because of the cold shower.

~:~:~

When the time came for lights out, Castiel was ready for whatever attack Dean may have at him tonight. He sat up, back to the headboard (or head bars, to be exact), a blanket covering half of his body. His tiny paper clip was ready. All he had to do was poke it into one socket of Dean's eyes. Castiel was sure he had the guts to do that.

Castiel wasn't sure how long he sat up there in the dark; it could have been hours or minutes. He could hear a little bit of noise here and there, someone flipping too harshly, someone snoring loudly, but the top bunk was as still and quiet as a coffin. The weather tonight was somewhat cooling, and his arms were dead tired because of all the push-ups he had done during the day, and his eyelids started drooping—

"Wake up."

Castiel was jolted awake by Dean's voice next to his ear. He tried to move, but his hands were tied behind his back to the head bars. Sitting close to it had not been a good idea after all.

His eyes searched about the tiny area, _where was the paper clip?_

"Looking for this?" Dean smiled widely in front of him, holding the teeny paper clip in one hand.

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut at his foolishness. He should have kept it under his tongue.

"It looks helpful. I'll keep it for you," said Dean, tossing the helpless clip on the floor.

Dean straddled Castiel's lap, fingers toying with his top. He didn't gag him, or bind his feet.

"I see you made some friends today," Dean said, his hands rubbing the plain of Castiel's chest under his shirt. Castiel tried to recoil from the touch, but he couldn't move any further with Dean sitting on him.

"What's his name?" Dean asked, pushing his top over his head, and it stuck behind his neck. Once again Castiel was naked from the waist up, in front of Dean.

"Chuck," Castiel replied with a choke of breath he didn't know he was holding.

Dean nodded at his reply.

"Tell me," Dean said over his skin. He didn't waste any time, but went straight to places where Castiel was most sensitive, which sent him reeling under Dean's tight grip. "Who do you like more? Me or Chuck?"

Castiel whimpered, swelled tears threatened to pour down his cheeks. It was terrifying how Dean knew so much about him, how he didn't miss a single one of Castiel's sensitive spots.

"Chu-"

"Think of your answer, Cas," Dean retorted, as he bit at his collarbone, breaking skin. Castiel could no longer hold his tears.

"You, I like you more."

Dean hummed contentedly, licking at the bruise.

"Dean," Castiel sobbed, his voice broken, "please."

Dean stopped, looking back at Castiel's face. Then he shifted. A slight change of his position, and Castiel could feel Dean's rock hard erection against his penis.

"You feel that, Cas?" Dean asked, rocking his hips slightly, but the friction it created was maddening. "That's what you do to me when you beg, you filthy little whore."

Castiel swallowed down his moans. "I'm not a whore," he whimpered.

That put a smile on Dean's face. He stopped rocking and gave Castiel a peck on his lips. "No, you're not," Dean said shoving Castiel's pants down. Castiel gasped when his own erection sprang free. "You're my _bitch_."

Dean wrapped his fingers around Castiel's cock. His thumb rubbed at the precum spilling from his angry head. Castiel shivered at the touch.

"Please, Dean, you're hurting me."

Dean stopped what he was doing.

"My arms, will you untie me, please?" Castiel asked softly.

For a moment, Dean seemed to consider and Castiel thought he might get away with it tonight, but then Dean lifted himself up and then lifted Castiel up with both arms, straightened his back and put a pillow behind for him to rest on.

"Better?" Dean asked.

Castiel's hope was shattered. There was no way he was getting out of this.

As soon as Castiel nodded, Dean resumed his task. He lined up their erections and started pumping them both, with the thin fabric of Dean's pants in between. Castiel had no idea why Dean didn't take his clothes off, but he was glad he didn't.

If Dean was any good with his mouth, his fingers were magical. It seemed as if Dean could read from his pants and ragged breath and it was even better than when Castiel fondled himself. Soon the tension was building up and Castiel knew he has lost his battle again.

"Dean, I'm gonna-"

"Come for me, baby." Dean quickened his pace and Castiel shot angrily all over his stomach. He knew Dean came, too, at the same time. Their indecent groans would put every porn star to shame.

Somehow Castiel felt sorry for his fellow inmates, having to hear such obscene sounds meant for the confines of a private room.

Dean flopped down, resting his head on Castiel's shoulder, panting hard. "That was awesome, Cas."

Great, now his perpetrator thought molesting him was _awesome_.

After a while, Dean got up. He grabbed a towel from his bed, wet it and came to clean Castiel up. He didn't wait until after Castiel had gone asleep.

"Dean," Castiel asked, looking at Dean in the dark, "why are you doing this to me?"

Dean pulled Castiel's pants up and his top down. He untied his arms and settled Castiel back on his pillow, covering him with his blanket. He gave Castiel a quick peck on his lips.

"Goodnight, Cas."

Castiel watched as Dean climbed swiftly back up his bed, his question left unanswered.

~:~:~


	3. Halfway to Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the overwhelming responses and I'm so sorry for the slow update. To make up for it, this chapter has been beta'd. Hooray! Big thanks to **phaelsafe** for her help. Also, a special thanks to **divevil** for her 'educational' support. Please kindly note the increased warnings and don't forget I welcome all kinds of feedback!

Castiel was lost in thought when Chuck threw his food tray down in front of him, making Cas jump. "I see you stopped eating," Chuck commented, flopping down on the opposite chair.

Castiel apathetically picked at his food. He had lost his appetite and couldn't take a single bite. Hell, he even lost his will to live. "I want to stop breathing," he mumbled meekly.

"Touché. Touché," Chuck grunted, gobbling up his food as though it would disappear before his eyes.

Cas' mind drifted back to the events of last night. He had never  _felt_  another guy's dick before. He had always been so sure he was a straight man, but the friction was...  _maddening_  was an understatement. The memory of Dean groaning still made him shiver–

No, he was so not gay.

"I want to die," Castiel continued with a sigh. It was embarrassing, being harassed by another guy; and, worse still, that he couldn't keep his mind off it.

"Yea, prison suicide, try that," Chuck said around a mouthful of bread, spitting crumbs as he snorted. "Make sure you succeed, or you'll wish you were dead."

Castiel sighed again, long and heavy, watching with morbid curiosity as Chuck shoveled the tasteless prison food down his throat with the enthusiasm of a pig. He frowned. "How do you even survive in this place?"

"I see things," Chuck replied with a nonchalant shrug.

Of course the reply made Castiel's frown deepen. "What do you mean you see things?"

"I see things means I see things. Am I speaking Chinese?"

Ignoring Chuck's irritation, Castiel continued, "Like a psychic?"

"Meh," Chuck responded with another shrug. "So, unless you have some kind of supernatural power, I suggest you grow a pair and start fighting back."

Castiel cringed. He was never one for violence. "But I don't know how to fight," Cas said sheepishly.

Chuck just nodded. "See that guy sucking a lollipop over there?" he said after he had finished chewing, pointing to a small guy with slicked-back hair and a wide forehead. "His name's Gabriel. He's one of the top fighters here. He'll teach you."

Castiel watched as Gabriel joked and laughed with two taller guys, deepening the friendly creases on his face. He didn't seem much of a fighter, but what Castiel found more questionable was "Why would he do that?"

Besides Chuck, nobody had really bothered to come near Castiel, let alone talk to him.

"Because he will," Chuck replied flatly as he got up, collecting his empty tray before walking away.

~:~:~

When afternoon rec time came around, Castiel mustered up his courage and walked straight over to where Gabriel and the two guys from earlier were busy grappling shirtless. He glanced over at Dean's usual spot across the field. A small crowd of people was cheering Dean on as he hoisted himself up a salmon ladder.

"So this is the face that launches a thousand ships." Gabriel stopped what he was doing and approached Castiel with a sneer.

"Gabriel," Castiel greeted with a tentative nod, trying not to look taken aback.

"What can I do for you, Queen of Sparta?" Gabriel smirked as his entourage snickered, rising to stand like brick walls on either side of the shorter man.

Castiel squinted up at them; then narrowed his eyes back at Gabriel. He stepped in closer, lifting his chin with determination. "You call me Queen again and I'll rip your ovaries out with my bare hands."

Tall and Taller threw their heads back, howling with laughter. Gabriel just chuckled in Castiel's face. "And here I thought you only had a big mouth when Dean was fucking it."

Castiel felt his blood boil. His hand clenched, and he hauled his fist back, ready to throw the first punch, when arms suddenly grasped him from behind. One of Gabriel's men had him trapped in a bear hug. His arms were locked tightly against his chest by the much stronger arms around him, and he tried to wrench free from the hold to no avail.

Gabriel clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Moan like a pussy, buck like a filly."

Growling, Castiel hauled his legs up and tried to kick out at Gabriel, who easily stepped out of the way.

"Be still!" Gabriel roared, his voice full of authority and power that could quiet even the restless howling of wolves.

Castiel halted, his nose flaring with rage. Sweat beaded upon his brow from the exertion, and the arms still holding him raised the heat, adding to Castiel's frustration.

"When you are grabbed," Gabriel continued, his tone abruptly solemn. "Don't panic. Remain calm and think. Don't think about where you've been locked. Think of where you're free." Castiel blinked, suddenly realizing that Gabriel was, in fact, giving him a lesson. "Your legs are free; your hands are free; your head is free. Use them."

Castiel remained stumped.

"Now watch." As soon as Gabriel spoke, his other lackey grabbed him in the same hold that Castiel was currently restrained by. Gabriel smashed his foot against the man's knee, and the other man lost his grip. Then, Gabriel whacked his head backward, swinging out of the hold and around to kick the guy in the stomach.

Castiel wasn't sure he followed that.

"Your turn."

~:~:~

For the rest of the day, Castiel was elated. Gabriel turned out to be quite a good teacher and Castiel had practiced a few self-defense tricks, as many as the short rec time allowed. When nighttime fell, Castiel's whole body ached, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't fall prey to Dean Winchester again tonight.

He avoided his bed and settled on the floor on the other side of the room. Castiel braced his back against the wall, determined not to fall asleep.

Dean Winchester stood before him not long after anyway.

"Didn't know you prefer getting off on the floor," Dean leered.

Cas stood up in defiance, glaring at Dean through the dim light.

Dean's lips spread into a sly smile. "I see you've taken some lessons today."

Castiel took another step closer when a stupid realization hit him. Gabriel had only taught him how to fend off an attack from behind. He had no idea what to do if his attacker was coming at him from the front.

"I won't let you take advantage of me again, Dean." Castiel lowered his voice, displaying a confidence he didn't really have.

In response, Dean simply smirked.

Easily catching the punch Cas throws at him, Dean twists Castiel's arm around then shoves him harshly into the cell bars with a loud clang, clutching at the other man's wrists from behind.

Instantly Castiel applied what he had learned earlier. He tried to stomp on Dean's foot, but Dean drew back in a flash. He used his head, but Dean also gracefully dodged away. When Castiel turned, he was pinned back against the bars with such force and precision that any chance of gaining his freedom was lost as Dean pressed in close, body to body.

"Now that's my boy," Dean purred into Castiel's ear, tying his wrists behind the bars with some cloth. "You'd probably survive the streets of, I don't know, Colorado?"

Castiel growled, writhing wildly against the binding only to find he was held fast. Dean took a few steps back slowly, carefully holding up his hands as if to imply he meant no harm.

"As a reward," Dean said with a wicked smile. He grabbed the hem of his scrub top and pulled it over his head, tossing the orange piece of cloth to the floor, revealing his finely toned muscles that glowed in the dim bluish light. Prison bars cast blasphemous shadows across his chest and the diabolic, sun-like tattoo that was branded on it.

"Like what you see, don't you?" said Dean with a seductive smile.

Castiel broke from his trance. He licked his lips, his blue eyes boring into enticing greens. "Dean," he called, his voice low and quivering, "I want to kiss you."

Never breaking eye contact, Dean edged slowly closer until he was once again pressed to Castiel, their noses grazing as they shared the same hot air. Cas' breath hitched as Dean rested his hands on his hipbones, swaying his hips ever so slightly. Dean brushed his lips over Cas', a light touch that roused the deepest longings of the heart. Castiel darted his tongue out, licking across Dean's lips, asking for access he had not yet been granted.

"And risk having my tongue bitten off? I don't think so," said Dean, pulling away.

Castiel dropped his head dejectedly. There went another attempt to get back at Dean.

"You see," Dean continued in his hawkish demeanor, "I still need it when I suck you off." Castiel yelped as Dean suddenly grabbed his dick. He shuddered when Dean palmed him, kneading him through the thin fabric of his pants. "I still need it when I drag my tongue, hot and wet, along the underside of your cock." As a demonstration, Dean dragged his finger from root to tip. It took all of Cas' effort not to whimper at the touch.

Dean slipped his hand under the waistband, fingers curling around Cas' hard-on as he purred, "When I close my lips around you, Cas," he said sliding his thumb over Castiel's flared head, smearing creamy pre-cum, "I need my tongue to support your big, fat cock as it hits the back of my throat."

Castiel closed his eyes, swallowing his groan.

"Look at me," Dean ordered and Castiel's eyes fluttered back open. Dean's lips were a mere breath away.

"Don't you wanna fuck my mouth, Cas?" Dean purred over Cas' lips. "My fuckable lips will stretch around you, make you throb painfully; and I will suck you so hard you'll be begging me to make you come."

Castiel was now trembling in Dean's hands, under Dean's voice. "And if you're a good boy," Dean went on, "I'll let you come on my chest." Castiel growled at the image that crept treacherously into his mind. "What do you say, huh, Cas? Do you want to paint my pretty chest with your cum?"

Cas was pitifully shaking within his bonds. "No," he answered, his voice cracking. "Dean, please stop."

"No?" Dean pulled back with a small frown. "I'm hurt."

With that Dean promptly dropped to his knees, shoving Castiel's pants down to his ankles and swallowing his cock straight down. Castiel screamed at the sudden heat around him, the sound of hard sucking echoing through the cell. Castiel stiffened, controlling his hips as best as he possibly could despite the overwhelming insanity.

Frustrated, Dean groaned in his throat and pulled off. "Let it go, Cas," he said sternly, looking up at Castiel. "Fuck me."

Cas threw his head back and suppressed his groans as Dean resumed his task. One of Dean's hands reached up to rub at Castiel's nipple, the other cupping his ass, squeezing it, before crushing his hips onto Dean's face. Once his cock slid down Dean's throat, Cas snapped, his hips thrusting violently of their own accord. He wished his hands weren't bound. He'd love to grab at Dean's hair as he fucked his mouth like a filthy cock slut that he was.

Soon enough, Castiel found he didn't need the use of his hands as Dean met all of his thrusts with ease. He slammed into the back of Dean's throat, over and over again; his mind spinning as he brokenly repeated Dean's name. Each time, Dean returned with throaty moans that vibrated across Castiel's throbbing nerves. Dean popped off and replaced his mouth with his hand at the final thrust. Castiel roared as he spurted fiercely, Dean's skillful fingers milking him through his orgasm.

"See how hot you are, Cas?"

Exhausted, Cas opened his eyes to find Dean sitting back on his heels, his knees spread wide. Thick stripes of white streaked across Dean's tanned chest. His toned muscles glistened with sweat, and his face was flushed, his lips swollen and red.

Dean Winchester was divinely beautiful.

After Dean let Castiel indulge in the sight, he got up and grabbed a towel from Cas' bed. He wet it down in the little sink and cleaned himself up before tossing it over Castiel's head. He said his goodnight and Castiel was left standing there, tied to the bars as Dean climbed back up onto his bunk.

Castiel slowly cooled down from his high. The towel hung loosely around his head, blocking his view. It smelled faintly of his own semen and Dean's sweat, and Castiel felt nauseated. He wanted to throw up at himself, at how sick he had become, how he had brutalized Dean, used Dean for his own pleasure like a wild animal.

He swore he would not let it happen again. He would not let Dean Winchester take control over him ever again.

~:~:~

Castiel felt his hands untied and he was braced against a shoulder. He continued to feign sleep as Dean carried him gently back to bed. As he lay there, a weight dropped beside him; then a hand softly caressed his hair. He felt Dean's lips pressed to his, lingering there until a drop of water landed upon his cheek.

With a mumbled, "I'm sorry," Dean hurried back to his own bunk.

Castiel opened his eyes in the dark, wiping the teardrop away with his finger. It was all too fucked up for him to even try to grasp what was going on.

~:~:~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the famous salmon ladder Oliver Queen climbed up in CW Arrow's pilot episode. My Dean could do that. ;)


	4. Howl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel came across someone who could help him get away from Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I present this chapter to you with a troubling heart. If my writing is good enough, then you will at least have the slightest idea where this is going. If not, then I'd probably get thrown cyber tomatoes, which will evolve to rotten ones in the next chapter. (I love tomatoes, btw. As long as you don't throw me broccoli or bell peppers, I won't hate you.)
> 
>  **Warnings for this chapter** : Brief graphic depiction of a bloody scene and mentions of suicide.
> 
> Please give a big round of applause to **phaelsafe** who patiently beta read this chapter.

"This has to stop!" Castiel threw his food tray on the table, causing a loud bang. It was a miracle he didn't spill all his food. Chuck and the other two inmates who were engaged in an easy conversation jumped simultaneously. The two inmates quickly grabbed their trays and moved to other tables, leaving Chuck huffy with annoyance.

"The hell, dude? I was talking!" Chuck wailed.

"It's not my fault everyone is disgusted with me," Castiel hissed. Why shouldn't they be? Even he was disgusted with himself.

"Oh, please, don't be a bitch," Chuck said with a roll of his eyes. "Everyone knows you're Dean's girl, and nobody messed with Dean's stuff. That's all."

"I'm not anyone's stuff!" Castiel snapped, getting up and hitting the table so hard everyone turned to stare in his direction. As soon as the whole canteen went dead silent, Cas realized what he had done and looked around discreetly. Some of the inmates' jaws actually dropped, and he heard a few others snickering from afar.

He slowly sat back down and was relieved to see everyone turn back to whatever they were doing earlier.

"Half of the people here respect Dean," Chuck hissed over the table. "And the rest fear him. So should you."

Castiel rubbed both hands over his face hard. He raised his shoulders and waved a hand at the inmate in front of him. "What about you?" he asked.

"I am not afraid of Dean," Chuck replied grimly.

"Why? Because you see things?"

Chuck shook his head slowly and let out a small sigh. "You should see his soul, Castiel."

Cas snorted. He thought Chuck wasn't afraid of Dean because he overpowered him, not because of some stupid implication that Dean had a beautiful soul or whatever!

"If you really see his soul, Chuck," Cas sneered. He hated Dean. He never hated anyone as much as he did Dean at this moment. "You should be afraid of him for being the monster that he is."

Chuck shook his head again, this time wearily. "Let me ask you something." He lowered his voice as if he didn't want anyone to overhear them. "Did Dean ever hurt you?"

In reply, Castiel simply presented the bruises on his wrists, his eyes fierce with anger.

Chuck made a dramatic roll of his eyes. He moved his face across the table and beckoned Castiel closer. Cas complied skeptically and Chuck asked, his voice barely a whisper, "Did he ever penetrate you?"

Castiel felt the blood drain from his face. He was sure at that moment he was paler than a blank piece of paper. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. When he spoke again, his voice was so rough it reminded him of sandpaper. "How much did you see?" he asked, keeping his voice as low as he could.

Chuck gave a satisfied nod and backed away. "I see enough," he said.

Castiel gulped hard. Perhaps Chuck had good reasons why he survived this place.

~:~:~

"Gabriel!" Castiel called as the other guy was returning his tray to the scullery. He pulled the guy around the corner, away from the majority of people.

"How do I request a cell change?" Castiel asked. Since Chuck wasn't helping, he turned to the only other person he knew in this place.

"Why would you want a cell change?" Gabriel asked casually, removing the lollipop from his mouth as he did so. "I believe you're in good hands, judging from what I heard last night." He snickered and popped the candy back into his mouth.

Castiel rolled back his head and groaned. "I can't let this go on anymore! I need to move out."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes up at him. He popped out the candy and whirled it around in the air. "Look around you, Cassie. How far do you think you can run in here?"

"As far as I could," Cas straightened his shoulders as he replied. Gabriel had a point, but still he had to do something about it.

Gabriel just stared back at him, the candy stick rolling around between his lips. After a brief moment, he took it out, stepping closer, and asked into Castiel's face, "How can you be sure your new cellmate won't do the same thing to you – or worse – now that they've all heard how you moan?"

Castiel felt like fire was creeping up his face, out of embarrassment or anger he could not tell. "You should see what he's turned me into!" he hissed, raising a finger in the shorter man's face in disdain. True, he could be raped, worse ways than he had been with Dean, but Castiel was pretty sure none of them could make him feel so low; none of them could make him feel like both prey and predator at the same time.

If Gabriel saw the rage or loathing in Castiel, he didn't wince. Instead, he said calmly, "What I can offer you, Castiel, is more intensive lessons. I will give steps you can practice on your own in your cell. If you can fight Dean, you can fight anyone."

"I can't fight Dean!" Cas lashed. "No one can fight him."

"It's true no one here can fight him," Gabriel replied with a nod, "but that doesn't mean you can't. You have potential."

Castiel groaned in frustration, throwing a punch at the wall next to them, leaving more bruises across his knuckles.

Just then the alarm blared, signaling them back to their stations or cells. Gabriel moved away with two pats to Castiel's back.

"I'll see you later, bro."

~:~:~

Castiel spent the entire morning seething and practicing what he had learned from Gabriel the other day while Dean was out on his job. His 'kung-fu' master may be right. If he could fight Dean, he could fight anyone, but he was not convinced that he had potential, seeing how his movements looked more like waddling than footwork. Even after lunchtime, when he was called in to see the correctional officer, he was still fuming, the smoke so thick he didn't see it coming when someone yanked him into what felt like a janitor closet. He was shoved against lockers; an arm locked tight over his throat, threatening to block his airway. It was completely dark, and Castiel could feel the hand that covered his mouth and hot breath over his face. He knew it wasn't Dean and fear gripped his heart.

"Listen to me carefully," the guy spoke and his voice was so cold it sent a chill down Cas' spine. "I'm here to help. I'm not going to hurt you."

If he wasn't so panicked, Castiel thought he might actually roll his eyes. Why did everyone start the conversation with these words when they were _clearly_  hurting him?

"I know you want to request a transfer and I can help you with that," the guy continued. "If you promise not to scream, I will turn on the light and we can talk. Nod if you understand."

Castiel weighed his options. He could not-nod and risk being left here knocked out, if not dead. Or he could nod and when the light was on, he could assess the place and find a way to escape. Or he could just nod and listen to what the guy had to offer. Either way, nodding was the most sensible option, so he nodded.

"Good," the other man said, then the arm that locked around his throat slowly eased off and Castiel gasped for air. A click sounded from the darkness and light swarmed through the room.

Castiel was quite surprised that the guy didn't look as scary as his voice implied. He had short blond hair and sad blue eyes. If not for the few scars on his face, Castiel would think he was just a white-picket fence husband gone wrong.

The guy carefully removed his hand and Castiel studied the room. It was definitely a janitor's closet, but why would there be such a room in a prison Castiel couldn't understand. He could think of fifty crimes that could happen in here, and he shuddered at the thought. The door, however, was only to his left. If he dashed out really fast, maybe he could—

"Sorry I had to drag you in here," the man said sheepishly. His tone was genuinely apologetic Castiel reconsidered running away. "You have Dean's eyes on you all the time and this is the only safe place we can talk. People think this room is permanently locked."

Okay, so the guy seemed to know what he was talking about. However, the last sentence didn't sound very comforting. If no one knew he was here, it could be days, or forever, before someone found his body.

"The transfer," Castiel urged the talk on with a clear of his throat.

"Yes, the transfer," the guy returned with a small smile on his face. "You can file a request at the warden's office, but the thing is," he paused, pointing one finger into the air, "you won't be transferred unless there's a vacancy, which currently, there isn't."

Castiel's heart sank. So he had to be stuck with Dean for God knows how long. Maybe he could file a request and wait until someone moved out? But considering this place was more of a permanent residence than a motel, he may not outlive that time.

"But," the guy continued. Did he just sing-song? "I can file another request and with two requests a transfer should be possible."

Castiel squinted his eyes. That sounded too good to be true. He didn't believe anyone here would do anything out of a goodness of his own heart. "Why would you do that?" he asked.

"Someone needs to stand up to Dean," he said, his face suddenly solemn. "You see how everyone appeases him and ignores what he did to you? I may have done wrong in the past, Castiel; doesn't mean I have to tolerate it now."

Yes! Finally someone sympathized with him and had the guts to go against Dean. Out of this context, Castiel would befriend him right about now.

Raising his chin, Castiel remained collected and asked, "Who's your bunk mate?"

"Uriel. I believe you have met him."

Castiel shuddered at the name. How could he forget? And now he had to move from Dean to Uriel? Uh-uh. He was glad he was smart enough to ask.

"Wait, in the shower the other day," Castiel asked. He remembered someone stopped Uriel from advancing upon him, though he couldn't quite remember the voice. "Was that you?"

The guy nodded slightly.

"I don't think I would want to share the bed with Uriel, though," Castiel said plainly. The guy must be mad if he thought he would choose Uriel over Dean.

"And I want to share it with Dean? Please!" He wailed with a puff. "I know the person who'd arrange the transfer; they can put us together. Now just think how fun it would be if Dean and Uriel were in the same cell," he said with that mischievous look on his face. "He won't see it coming if we kept it secret."

Castiel had to agree the idea was very intriguing, but could he really trust a guy who had just kidnapped him into a room that had no way in?

"I didn't get your name," Castiel said pointedly.

"Call me Nick."

"Alright, Nick." Because Castiel couldn't think of any indirect way to ask, so he asked bluntly, "Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't trust anyone here," Nick replied with a smirk. "But to prove that I am on your side, I can teach you how to pick this lock that nobody else can," Nick said. "It's designed to keep prisoners out. Really, it's just overly complex, and I've had a lot of experience with picking ridiculous locks." His expression faltered slightly, and he muttered almost too softly to be heard, "amongst other things."

A few 'felony' tricks would be nice while he served his time here. Considering the offer, Cas remained silent for a few more moments, waiting to see if Nick had anything else to offer.

And he did. "I can get you a job too," he continued nonchalantly, "Which would give you some leverage."

If asked, Castiel could only say a hundred different things ran through his mind at that moment. Eventually the sentence Castiel chose as a reply was, "No." Even though he knew he was in no position to negotiate, he did anyway. "Teach me how to escape restraints, and then we're talking."

~:~:~

That afternoon Gabriel worked him hard; the lesson went so far as to send Castiel flying in the air and landing with a thud. Castiel groaned in pain. He had managed to get himself more bruises in one day than Dean had inflicted on him in three.

"Ouch," Gabriel cried and winced dramatically. "That must hurt considering your ass was already bruised," the short man mocked him, whirling one hand in the air. The two tall guys, whose names Castiel learned were Danny and Roy, burst out laughing.

"Get your ass up!" Gabriel roared and Castiel complied with much difficulty. He wouldn't want to imagine how painful it would be if his ass was actually already bruised as they assumed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Gabriel howled again, clutching Castiel's scrub top with both hands. Their faces were so close Castiel thought he might have felt the other's spit on his face. "Are you enjoying your time with Dean so much you don't want to fight him anymore? Spare me then and stop wasting my time!"

Castiel searched his brain for the right answer. He wanted so damn badly to fight Dean earlier but now that he glimpsed hope of moving out of Dean's cell and had the possibility of getting a job, he didn't see the point of fighting anymore. Castiel had always prided himself as one who solved every problem with a civilized approach as opposed to barbaric ones, and he'd very much prefer to maintain that integrity even in impossible places such as this.

But before he could get the transfer, he still had to spend nights with Dean. He may be able to escape the binding, but he still had to fight, and who knows when that bastard would think he had had enough and decide to shove his dick up Castiel's ass? So, yes, the answer would be a yes, naturally.

"No, I don't enjoy my time with Dean," Castiel replied through gritted teeth. "And yes, I want to fight him."

If anything, he needed to gain control over himself. He didn't want to think what kind of a person Dean would turn him into – if it was anything humane at all.

"Good boy," Gabriel patted Cas twice upon the cheeks. "Now put your hands up!"

~:~:~

Castiel was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming because he was wearing his dark blue business suit and tan trench coat, whereas his sister, who was sitting on a blanket in the middle of the back yard, was only five. It was their parents' house, the house where they grew up, the house that existed no longer.

"Castiel!" Anna called out to him, smiling brightly, her beautiful red hair shining in the sun. She inherited the auburn from their mother's mother, while he got his dark brown from their father's side.

Castiel smiled back warmly, walking towards her. Anna was a smart kid. She could pronounce his name correctly since before she was two years old. He sat down on the blanket. His sister was having a tea party, her favorite role to play.

"What are you serving today?" he asked, looking at the plastic pots and pans and kitchenware that lay around her. The trimming on her lacy white dress embellished the checkered red-and-white blanket she was sitting on.

His sister looked at him, studying his face for a moment with a dramatic, serious look on her own. He knew that underneath the innocence of a five-year-old, Anna understood things her peers wouldn't until they were several years older.

"You looked stressed." She observed. "I see anger and… fear?"

Castiel chuckled gently. His sister's words and actions would be cute if they weren't so creepily accurate. "What do you know about anger and fear?" he asked, ruffling her soft, long hair. "You are only five."

Anna waved him away grumpily with both hands, offended. "I know your anger and fear come from many sources," she replied with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

"All right, angel," Castiel said, trying his best to feign a smile. Anna may be smart, but this definitely was not the insight of someone her age. It was disturbing rather than amusing, but he didn't want to hurt his little sister's feelings. "I'm hungry. Would you make me something to eat, please?"

Smiling widely, Anna pretended to cook a meal with her plastic utensils until she put an empty teacup, an empty water glass, and an empty plate in front of him. "Here's your chamomile tea. It should help you relax and help with your bruises, as will this spinach baked with cheese and pineapple juice."

Castiel tried hard to hide the way he cringed. Anna's expansive knowledge was downright eerie. How did she know which foods benefited what aches and pains? And how could she tell he had bruises? He glanced down at his wrists; they were milky clean.

"Castiel! Anna!"

He was chilled to the bones as their names were called. Castiel turned to look. Standing on the porch was their mother, as young and as vibrant as he remembered her from old photographs.

"Dinner is ready," she called again, a beautiful smile adorning her lips.

Anna beamed, dropping everything she had in hand and standing up. She waited until he stood up, then she stretched her arms up, her fingers barely reaching his shoulders. He took the hint and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up. She tangled her arms over his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist, nuzzling into his neck.

"When I grow up," Anna said over his shoulder while they were walking to the house. "Can I be your mommy?"

It wasn't the first time he'd heard this. Castiel laughed, happy to have his innocent sister back. "Why?" he asked, despite knowing full well why.

"Because I want to cook for you like mommy cooks for us!" She beamed happily.

Chuckling, Castiel replied softly, kissing her cheek, "You can still be my sister and cook for me, you know?"

"Oh," she cried in a very small voice, then rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "So, can I start now?"

Without waiting for an answer, she wriggled herself out of Castiel's hold. Once she set foot on the ground, she ran straight to the house.

"Anna!"

Castiel tried to stop her, but she had already disappeared. A few seconds later, a piercing shriek returned to him.

"Anna!"

In a state of panic, Castiel rushed into the house. He stopped, seeing Anna was standing in the hallway, her eyes widening in shock as she stared at something in the kitchen. Her whole body was trembling, and Castiel dreaded every step he took as he drew nearer.

Blood. As he rounded the island, he found crimson blood. Dark, viscous blood pooled on the floor, growing as he inched further. Foul smells hit him sharply, but he fought the urge to gag. Curiosity and terror battled for dominance over his wobbly legs. Finally his curiosity won out and he walked in, exposing himself to the horrendous scene laying before his eyes.

Lying there were his parents, their faces contorted grotesquely, out of shock or terror Castiel could not tell. Their limbs were also unnaturally bent; he wouldn't want to imagine the excruciating pain it took to acquire the posture. Even more horrifying, however, was their torsos. They were torn open, shredded with bloody, slimy, yucky guts spilling out onto the ground.

His knees buckled and Castiel flopped, throwing up right where he was. It wasn't until his stomach emptied and he felt prickly acid burn along his esophagus that he thought of Anna. His little sister could not see this – his naïve little angel.

"Anna!"

Looking around, he saw nobody. Then he got a glimpse of little red hair in white dress running out and away through the backdoor.

"Anna!"

~:~:~

Castiel jerked awake, sitting up, drenched in sweat. The dreams had come back to him again. Since that incident, not a night had passed without him having a nightmare about his parents' murder. Every. Single. Night. Castiel dreaded those dreams. They were too vivid and too cruel.

He had tried going without sleep, but there was only so much his body could bear. The dreams returned again when he finally passed out, mocking him like a mean prankster. After that, he resorted to sleeping pills, only to find even drug-induced sleep was not immune to those nightmares. Then he thought of suicide, attempted it even.

There was one night he woke up, feeling so fed up he thought that was it. That was the night he was going to end it all. He ran into the kitchen, grabbing the biggest knife at hand and setting it against his throat. He stood like that for twenty minutes, the cold metal hardly scratching his skin. When he realized that this kind of suicide needed more courage than he could afford, he threw the knife away and moved to grab the bottle of bathroom cleaner. Closing his eyes and gulping it down couldn't be so hard, he reasoned. That is, until he brought the bottle close to his face. Its sharp smell cut through his nostrils and he suddenly winced.

Putting the bottle back down, he dropped to the floor and sobbed until he was a mess. In the end, he resolved to accept it like a malignant cancer in his body; malignant because it ate away at his soul, slowly walking him to his death. His only wish was that it would happen sooner rather than later.

He flopped back onto his pillow, feeling exhausted. Now that he was having nightmares again, he hadn't realized he had been free of them in the first place. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually had one of those dreams. What had changed to stop them, and now, to bring them back? Did it have something to do with him being in prison?

The morning call blared loudly, startling him. He exhaled, long and hard, one hand clutching at his thumping chest. His heartbeat barely calmed down when he heard clattering from the bunk above and he cursed everything that contributed to him already being so jumpy today.

Dean slid down to the floor, and Castiel hoped Dean would quickly disappear like always. But Dean didn't. He paused at the open bars and Castiel waited with a frightful, throbbing heart. To his relief, Dean didn't turn back to him as he had expected, but continued striding out and away.

_Dean—_

Something was different. Castiel couldn't recall any unpleasant memories from last night. Either nothing had happened or he could not remember it. He examined his wrists. Except for the old bruises that were now turning dark and purple, he didn't see any new marks. Or he couldn't differentiate the new ones from the old. He rubbed his palm all over his body, to see if there were any additional cuts or bruises, any new pains, but there weren't any.

Something was seriously wrong.

~:~:~

Castiel rushed to the table where Chuck was sitting, bumping into a few inmates along the way. They just glared at him and walked away when he muttered his apologies. He sat down opposite them, and Chuck and the other two inmates stared back at him.

"G… good morning," he said, cautiously turning to meet their gazes. It wouldn't be nice if there were people around when he asked Chuck what he wanted to ask.

Chuck had resumed eating his breakfast. "Your friends?" Castiel asked, gesturing to the other two people at the table.

"I don't have friends," Chuck replied flatly. Judging from how the other two chuckled, Castiel didn't think they were offended. They even gladly moved away when Chuck shooed them.

Castiel took the first chance. "I need to ask you something," he started. "Did I—" he stopped. Did I what? Did I have sex with Dean last night? He didn't realize how awkward his question could be until he tried to utter it. "Did you—" he tried again and failed. Did you what? Did you hear me moan last night? Oh, God, could he be more disgusting?

"If you were going to ask whether I heard any indecent activities from your cell last night," Chuck extended the courtesy of asking the unsaid question himself, and Castiel couldn't be more grateful, "the answer is no."

Castiel let out a heavy sigh of relief. Perhaps Dean had lost interest in him, and now he could serve his sentence with dignity, not disgrace.

"Look," Chuck said, a serious tone in his voice. "See that table down the hall?"

Looking over Chuck's shoulders, Castiel saw rows of tables and he had no idea which one Chuck was talking about. He saw, however, his friend talking to some guys at a too crowded table.

"That guy," Chuck said pointing in Nick's direction. "Everyone calls him Lucifer."

Castiel shuddered at the name. He couldn't for the life of him understand why anyone would name the nicest guy in this place after the Devil.

"Look at everyone sitting around his table," Chuck ordered. Castiel did and he noticed Uriel was also among those people. "Remember all their faces. Imprint them in your mind, and avoid them at all cost."

Castiel gaped at Chuck's words. He didn't know how to begin asking for logical reasons behind them. Then Castiel figured if they worshiped the person who abused and molested him, and called the only person who sympathized with and stood up for him Satan, he may be hanging out with the wrong people.

Chuck got up, collecting his tray and walking around to give Castiel a pat on the shoulder.

"Brace yourself, Castiel. Shit is just getting real."

~:~:~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to let me know what you think of this chapter. The next one will be told from Dean's POV, and a lot of your questions will be answered. Until then... have a marvelous 2013!


	5. The Boy is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's side of the story: what he did, why he did it, and the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is Dean's side of the story. This story now has over 80 followers, which is much, much more than I could ever hope for. Thank you each and every one of you, especially to those who left their reviews.
> 
> ICYMI, this story is tagged with warnings for M/M non-con situations, coarse languages, and violence. Please kindly heed additional warnings for each chapter (if any).
> 
> This story is purely fictional and the author by no means promotes, supports or tolerates non-consensual sexual activities of any kind.
> 
> Please kindly give two more rounds of applause for **phaelsafe** for beta-reading this chapter.
> 
> Oh, and more than half of this chapter is in flashbacks but I don't want to put everything in italics. Hopefully you won't get confused.

  
~:~:~

" _I see a light coming from the east.  
_ _It will warm up your soul,  
_ _And it will bring destruction upon this place."_  


~:~:~

"What the hell are you doing, Dean?" Chuck yelled, his voice echoing through the empty kitchen they were having the heated argument in.

"Keep your voice down, will you?" Dean said with a roll of his eyes. Even though they were in the far back, he didn't want to risk anyone overhearing them.

"The hell you were thinking?" Chuck continued, his voice now lowered almost to a normal level. "Why did you stop?"

"Because I can't do it anymore!" Dean hissed through gritted teeth, swinging an arm in the air as though he wanted to hit something to relieve his frustration.

Chuck threw his head back and sighed wearily. "Dean," he wailed, "we've been through this."

"I know!" Dean was now pacing up and down the aisle, flinging his arms. "But I can't—" he trailed off, rubbing both hands over his face. "I can't break him anymore. Not like this."

"Dean," Chuck said in a serious tone, "you know full well that if you don't, there will be consequences. Many lives are at stake here."

"We don't know that for sure, do we? We don't even know if anything _at all_ will happen!" he scoffed into Chuck's face.

"Now, that is downright insulting," Chuck returned flatly. "Tell me if my vision has been wrong once."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.

"Did he warm up your soul?" Chuck continued.

Dean didn't even attempt to reply. He simply lifted a hand to pinch his lips shut with his fingers, then crossed his other arm over his chest.

"I take that as a yes." Chuck concluded with a nod.

"Okay, so what if one sentence of your _prophecy_ was true?" Dean added an air quote at the word prophecy. "Doesn't explain the rest, though. The guy is from California as far as I know. That is like as far west as west can be."

"You have to have faith, Dean," Chuck replied calmly. "Or do you think there could be another light that warms up your soul?"

As disturbing as it was, Dean hated to admit he professed strange feelings towards this Cas guy. It was as if Dean was drawn to him – not physically, but much, much deeper than that. He never felt it with anyone before; he doubted he would feel it with anyone ever again.

~:~:~

Usually Dean would hang around the newcomers' reception hall only when he heard there'd be potential threats coming in order to assess the threat, get a heads up and prepare to handle them (primarily in regards to Lucifer). But since Chuck told him of that prophecy a few weeks ago, Dean needed to be on a lookout for all of them. They had no idea what sort of 'light' they needed to watch out for.

That was where Dean first met him: Castiel Milton, the man who would be his new cellmate and the one who would change the course of his life. With an amusedly adorable mop of unruly dark hair and the brightest blue eyes Dean had ever seen, he looked more like a student visiting the prison on a field trip than an offender coming in for first-degree murder.

Dean had been pretending to swab the floor the day Cas arrived. The floor was already sparkling clean as an officer droned on through the orientation lecture for the newcomers. Suddenly Cas' eyes turned his way and Dean held his breath even though he knew the guy wasn't looking at him. He followed Cas' gaze and landed upon a normal-looking butterfly that decided to rest on the windowsill. When he turned back, Cas was smiling a sweet, reminiscent smile, and Dean _knew_ they had found the one they'd been looking for.

But if any officer saw Cas smiling during his first orientation, they'd think he was being defiant and he was sure to come in for a rough ride while serving his time here. Thinking quickly, Dean dropped the mop onto the floor with a loud clack, causing everyone to turn his way. He already had his back to the crowd when he picked the long handle up and muttered his apologies to the officers before quickly walking away.

Then came the time Cas had to be sent to his cell. Dean played it cool by keeping still. He had mastered the art of playing dead, but when Cas inched closer, as if wanting to feel his pulse, Dean slipped. No one here had ever cared if he lived or died before. For someone who feigned death it was ironic to hear his heart beat so erratically in his ears, even long after Cas had disappeared under his bed. This guy – with all his naivety and too-trusting attitude – was going to be the death of him, literally, if Dean didn't do something about it and let Cas wing it on his own.

~:~:~

So that was how Dean found himself on top of Cas, committing what anyone would call a sexual assault. It was the only way to send a quick signal to the entire prison to keep their hands off him. Also, if Cas wanted to survive this prison, he needed to shake loose his innocence. It seemed so right a decision at the time, but afterwards, when Dean had to wipe the tears off Cas' face and tug him in all his unconsciousness to bed, it broke his heart. He had been very cautious about it, making sure Cas wasn't hurt (except for the restraints, which were unavoidable) and fully aroused, but it was a violation nonetheless. No amount of good intention could justify it.

Dean would have had stopped had Cas' first day gone by with no problem. Most inmates got the message and kept their distance, but someone hadn't taken Dean seriously and approached Cas in the shower. On top of that, Dean had tested Cas by slipping a paperclip in his food, but that night when Cas had fallen asleep - in the most adorable way, Dean thought - with the paperclip laying recklessly on the bed beside him, Dean realized Cas hadn't the slightest idea how to survive here. Tying Cas up to the bed, Dean reminded himself that if Gabriel didn't get his lazy ass into gear he would make sure his candy supply was cut off. Knowing tonight the entire prison would have to hear _both_ of their voices, Dean took a deep breath before waking up the sleeping beauty.

He would be lying if he said it wasn't fantastic. He loved the way Cas felt under his fingers. The way Cas writhed underneath him, trying to suppress his moans, only encouraged Dean to find the right angle and the right pressure in order to break them out of those lips. It left Dean dreaming, like a fucking girl, of the day he would be able to make love to Cas like he would his lover: gentle, hot, reciprocal. So, the next night, when Cas said he wanted to kiss him, Dean fell into a trance as if he had been enchanted by a magic spell.

But who was he kidding? Until Cas could fight him off, Dean would have to be the enforcer. Dean thought he would speed things up a little bit. The sooner he reached his goal, the sooner he wouldn't have to hurt Cas. By turning a victim into a perpetrator, yielding himself to the receiving end, Dean let Cas have a taste of being the abuser. He had coerced Cas into assaulting him, and Cas had complied, brutally thrusting his cock down Dean's throat until it hurt for days. He may have done too good a job at that, because even though he waited, there were no tears coming from Cas' eyes. In the end, Dean cried for both of them, for the mistakes he made, and for the innocence lost.

Regardless of Dean's intentions, sooner or later this would all backfire on him.

~:~:~

"Where are you going?" Dean asked, seeing that Cas was not walking back to their cell after breakfast one morning.

This was the first conversation Dean had had with Cas in the daylight. As long as he knew Cas was safe, Dean kept his distance and avoided any form of communication. But now Cas was breaking his routine, and Dean had no knowledge of it beforehand.

"Work," Cas replied flatly, his eyes narrowing in a way Dean could only interpret as _disgust_.

'That's new,' Dean thought, masking his surprise with a trained stoic appearance. "How did you get a job?" he asked. No one here got a job without coming through him.

"Why, Dean?" Castiel took a step closer and stared right into his eyes. "You have a problem with me going to work?"

Dean gulped. He knew Cas could be defiant; didn't mean getting it right to his face wasn't unnerving.

"You want to chain me up to the bed?" Cas continued sneering. "In that case, you'll have to get yourself a pet, Dean, cause last time I checked, I am still a human being – and one hundred percent sane," he finished and started storming away.

"Cas," Dean called, grabbing an arm to stop him. He may have pulled a little too harshly, because those shiny blue eyes were now only inches away, gazing at him with an intensity that pierced into his soul.

"It's Castiel," Cas hissed. "You don't get to call me Cas, and you don't get to touch me."

Cas jerked his arm away. Dean watched as the smaller man walked away, his shoulders trembling with fury.

~:~:~

Last night, Dean opened his eyes to find it dark. Even though he needed a solid four hours each night, his instincts kept his sleep light. Cas was talking in his sleep again.

He slid down the bed quietly, looking at the man before him caught in a troubled sleep.

"Anna—"

That was the name Cas kept calling. Who was this Anna? His wife? He had asked Sam to look into it and had yet to hear back from his brother. He watched with a troubling heart as sweat broke across Cas' forehead and all Dean wanted to do was to wipe it and those dreams away. As Cas began to writhe violently, her name slipped from his mouth with increasing frequency and volume. Dean stopped himself from reaching out to hold Cas in his arms, to calm him down and tell him everything was all right. Dean had sworn the next time he touched Cas must be because Cas wanted him to.

By the time Cas jerked awake, Dean was already back in his bed. He heard the sound of water running from the faucet and Cas must have splashed it all over his head. Then Dean would feel his presence, like always. He didn't have to look to know Cas was standing there, looking at him. Each day, it got closer and closer. The night before, he could feel Cas rested his head on the small railing of his bedside, but tonight, tonight he could feel the softest touch of Cas' fingers picking at the edge of his blanket. It was _so_ close. So close that Dean thought if only he turned back – if only he turned back, he would be able to pull the man into his arms and embrace him.

When Dean turned back, Cas was already gone.

~:~:~

"Between you and him, Dean, you need to be the strong one." Chuck took the opportunity to continue when Dean didn't reply. "You can't fold just because you don't have the nerve to ready him for battle."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Dean asked, his voice almost a wailing. "We don't even know what kind of _destruction_ he will bring." Again, another air-quote. "It could be, I don't know, a good one?" Dean said with a sheepish shrug.

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Hello, Dean? Wake up! Look where we are," Chuck said, snapping his fingers. "Almost everyone here has killed someone, Dean. Do you think they will aim for a _peaceful_ destruction? You have to do this. When the time comes – and it will – he needs to be able to protect himself."

"Fine!" Dean retorted. "I'll find another way."

"Dean—"

"I'll find another way," he insisted. "I'll keep an eye on him in the meantime."

"Can you watch him every minute of every day?" Chuck countered. "Can you trust your men? What if they lost sight of him for five minutes? You of all people should know a lot can happen within a five-minute time frame."

"You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?" Dean hissed again, because Chuck was right and Dean had no answer for that.

Chuck didn't flinch. "If you don't break him, somebody will. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Dean rubbed both hands over his face, sighing long and hard. "Fine. Let it happen then," Dean said with resolve, and Chuck didn't even try to hide the look of horror on his face. "Let somebody get to him and I can finish that bastard off and be done with your proph—"

"DEAN!"

A shout of his name cut him off mid-sentence. The unmistakable panic in the voice let Dean know something truly awful was happening. An inmate came into sight.

"Oh, thank God, I finally found you," the guy rasped, trying to catch his breath. "Come quick. It's Castiel."

The mention of the name made Dean headed out immediately, shouting back to Chuck, "Go get Gabriel!"

~:~:~

To say Dean snapped at what he saw was an understatement.

Cas was naked, on his knees, hands tied behind his back, with someone's cock shoved down his mouth. Dean hurled his fist at the culprit instantly, hitting his face so hard he could almost hear the cracking of bone.

"The boy is mine!" Dean shouted, splattering blood and knocking out a tooth as he threw another punch.

Somebody hurled Dean off and Dean knocked him away with a right cross. He turned back and was hit with a knee to the stomach, twice. Dean backed away from the assaults.

"I thought you were bored with him, Dean," the guy taunted, and Dean looked up to see it was Uriel, _that bastard_. "So I thought I'd play with him, you know, to keep him from getting too lonely."

"That boy toy is mine," Dean hissed, straightening up. He was ready for another fight. "I can play with him or not as I damn well please."

Dean took the first two jabs from Uriel. He returned with a one-two and dodged a swing. Dean countered with an uppercut to the ribs and series of straights to the torso. Once he got close enough, he locked his hands behind Uriel's neck and kneed him in the stomach one, two, three times, causing red blood to spill from his mouth. Uriel used his greater mass to heave Dean away.

Dean tried to maintain his balance but hits to his face and chest followed too quickly. He used his leg to throw Uriel off balance, unsuccessfully. But it did get Uriel to sway backwards. Dean followed with straight, hard punches to the face. Seeing Uriel become woozy, Dean struck him with a spinning kick right to his head. Uriel fell to the ground. Dean hurled himself atop the other man, throwing punch after punch after punch—

"Dean, stop it!"

The voice chimed in his ears like a bell. Someone held his arm, stopping his swing and Dean turned to see Cas. His bright eyes flickered with unfathomable expression. A blanket barely covered his naked body, and Dean saw bruises across his neck that he damn well knew weren't caused by him.

He abruptly stood up and, scruffing Cas by the neck, slammed his face on Uriel's chest. The bloody mess was just a nose tip away from Cas' face.

"Why, Cas?" he snarled. "You enjoyed sucking his dick so much that you don't want me to hurt him?" Cas shook his face against Dean's tight grip. New tears started rolling over old stains. "Tell you what, how about I cut his dick off and feed it to you for breakfast, huh? You like that? You man-whore!" he growled.

"No," Cas sobbed. "Dean, please."

"Need I remind you who you belong to?" Dean barked.

"I'm yours, Dean," Cas whimpered. "I'm yours."

"Good," Dean said, propelling Cas to his feet. He tightened the blanket, twisting his fingers into the cloth, and started walking. He stopped in front of Gabriel.

"Finish the job," Dean said, pointing to the heap of man-mess on the floor, and the troublemakers held captive by Dean's men. "I need to teach someone a lesson."

~:~:~

Dean threw Cas on the bed and threw himself on top of him. His worst fear had turned real. What would've happened if he hadn't gotten there fast enough? What if there were more men against him? What if he had lost the fight? He had to declare, again, that Cas was his, but would the message get across? How long would he have to live in fear that this might happen again? Or was that the last 'destruction' Chuck prophesied? Seeing Cas in such a vulnerable position had snapped him in half. His precious, delicate angel, _his light_ –

"Dean, Dean, stop." Cas' voice broke his train of thought. "You're hurting yourself."

_Hurting myself? What was he saying?_

It took Dean a moment to realize that, in his attempt to 'teach a lesson', Dean was dry-humping them. Neither of them was hard.

Even now, after all that had happened, Cas still thought of Dean first. Cas should hate him, should be disgusted with him – and Dean deserved it for being the brutal dick that he was, for failing to keep Cas safe in spite of that fact.

"Why are you doing this to me, Cas?" Dean said meekly next to Cas' ear.

He wasn't aware he was shaking until he felt soothing hands stroking gently at his back. He wasn't aware he was spilling tears until he felt tender lips on his cheek, drinking them away. Dean nuzzled into the touch because it was so comforting, and comfort was what Dean had been lacking for so long.

Dean breathed in, basking in the feeling of Cas' caresses, of their intimacy, of the way his heart fluttered and the world reeled at it all. Their lips met, and Dean savored it like he would his favorite piece of apple pie. He nibbled chapped lips, tasting salty tears and softly smudging them. Cas slightly parted his lips and Dean ran his tongue along white lines of teeth, teasing but not entering. He felt a hand grasped at the back of his neck, neither pushing nor pulling but locking him in place.

Dean smiled against the shivering lips, and started kissing him, for real this time. He slipped his tongue in, groping and searching and learning every corner and every curve of the inside of Cas' mouth. Cas groaned into it, and while his hand was steady behind Dean's neck, his arms squeezed Dean tighter. Satisfied, Dean yielded, and take over Cas did; he sucked and sighed into Dean's lips, inviting him closer, wanting him more.

After Dean sweetly complied, he pulled away just enough to see Cas' flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, feeling Cas' chest heave beneath him. Dean rested his forehead against Cas', catching his breath when he smugly asked, "Aren't you going to bite my tongue off?"

Cas smiled, a hand coming to pat Dean on the cheek. "Maybe next time."

~:~:~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of the chapter! If you still feel the urge to throw me rotten food, I suggest your veggies of choice not be green beans or celery. Alternatively, you can throw me West Collins, who basically eats the whole produce section.
> 
> More sexy times coming up. Stay tuned! :)


	6. Falling Slowly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Uriel incident, things take a drastic turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional chapter warnings:** General PTSD
> 
>  **A/N:** My heartfelt apologies this chapter took too long to update. Rest assured I will see it through, and if you're still reading this, you have my heart.
> 
> In case you've already forgotten, in the previous chapter, Cas was attacked by Uriel. Dean came to the rescue and they shared a kiss. :)
> 
> Special thanks to **alittlebitwicked** and **phaelsafe** who alpha and beta read this chapter respectively. Oh, and thank you to all of you who left your reviews. They were all very much appreciated!

Castiel lay awake in the dark. He didn't know what time it was, but now that the nightmare had woken him — again — he had no intention of going back to sleep. Lights from spotlights outside were beaming through the windows opposite his cell. The building had five floors, each with fifteen cells that housed two inmates, and it faced a high wall with windows wide enough to offer a glimpse of freedom. Whoever designed the place had a cruel sense of humor though; the inmates were separated from the windows by a gaping space. Any attempt to escape would end with a fatal fall. Castiel was on the first floor so he only really had to worry about bodies falling to the platform outside his cell and splashing blood through the metal bars.

Shuddering at the thought, Castiel pulled the thin blanket tighter around himself. He missed Dean. He missed Dean's warmth. He missed Dean's weight on him. He missed Dean's everything. That feeling was real, and it had always been so — he just hadn't been able to admit it until now.

And though it was real, he couldn't tell whether he really felt something for Dean or if he simply wanted Dean to chase away those nightmares. He had learned to live with them before, but he found it hard to accept them now that he had a taste of what it was like to be alive without them. Maybe that was why he craved his cure — namely, Dean — more than ever.

He had stood there in the dark beside Dean's bed often enough, trembling with terror from what his dreams had become. And Dean would sleep on, the rhythm of his breathing steady and serene, ignorant of Castiel's plight. In those shaky moments Castiel couldn't tell if fear or desire lured him to Dean, but he would eventually come to his senses and retreat back to the unsafe shadows, even more scared of his wavering feelings.

So that day when Dean had called him out in broad daylight to ask about his job, Castiel had flipped. A silent agreement had existed (or so it had seemed) between them: they wouldn't interact during the day — or, lately, at all — and then Dean had crossed that line. At such close proximity all Castiel had seen were the lucid lines of Dean's face, and he had wanted to crush their lips together. His attempt to calm the thumping pulse behind his ears had been in vain, and so Castiel had responded to Dean more harshly than he had intended. But it didn't matter as long as Dean had thought Cas was trembling with fury and not infatuation.

Perhaps he should've more carefully considered Chuck's words, but Castiel had been arrogant instead. What Dean had done to him was nothing compared to what those bastards had done. He still remembered the predatory look in their eyes that had projected nothing but lust and malice. They had laughed as they cornered and stripped and mercilessly abused him. He had been defenseless and pathetic, hoping someone would come to his rescue. When _no one_ had, his hope had slipped away with each tear that rolled down his face.

Castiel knew it was clichéd, but he had seen the light, had his hope restored when Dean had come into sight. He never doubted — not even for a second — that Dean would join Uriel instead of saving him. What he doubted, however, was just when he had started to trust Dean this much.

" _The boy is mine!"_

That voice was still ringing in his ears. Such a declaration should've been intimidating, but to him it had sounded almost like a confession of love. Given the right circumstances, he would have blushed upon hearing it, but then Dean's rage had risen beyond boiling point, and it had become downright scary as his offender lay still in a pool of blood while Dean seemed oblivious to that fact and kept punching him. Uriel could have died if he had not stopped Dean.

Uriel had been sent to an outside hospital immediately after, and no one knew what had become of him. His sidekicks had been given two weeks in solitary while Dean and his men had been sentenced to three nights for 'causing chaos.'

Two more nights, Castiel chanted to himself. He had to endure it for two more nights and then he'd be free from this misery.

~:~:~

Castiel remained in bed for as long as he could. Knowing the prison guards would yank him out eventually, he got up and made his way to the canteen. He kept his head down and sat in the corner farthest away from the crowd but he didn't go unnoticed. Despite the invisible bubble that seemed to keep anyone from approaching him, Castiel could still hear the whispers, feel the stolen glances; he felt nauseated.

"Thought you'd never show up," Chuck remarked, appearing from out of nowhere and making Cas jump. His food tray was still full as he sat down across from Cas.

With the way his heart pounded in his ribcage, Castiel was unable to form any reply.

"How are you feeling?" the scrawny inmate asked, spooning a small portion of food into his mouth.

"Fine," Cas retorted. Stabbing at the sorry excuse for mashed potatoes, he wondered why he bothered taking the food if he didn't really feel like eating. There was a good chance he'd lost a few pounds since coming here, but that had to do with his lack of appetite — though the food really was awful. "I _am_ fine. Why can't everyone just act normal?"

Chuck shrugged. He continued to unhurriedly eat his breakfast.

At the sight, Castiel narrowed his eyes. He was used to Dean's men keeping an eye on him but this was suffocating.

"You don't need to do this," Castiel said, rolling his fork mindlessly among his green peas.

"Do what?" Chuck asked.

"This," he gestured towards Chuck's plate which still held quite a lot of food. "You don't need to babysit me."

"Right." Chuck snorted. "And have Dean kill me when he gets out? Please."

Castiel shivered at the mention of the name but before he could respond, Gabriel appeared from out of the corner of his eye.

Horror gripped Castiel suddenly, and he gaped. "What have you been doing?"

"What?" Chuck asked, a questioning look upon his face.

"You and Dean and Gabriel. What kind of sick joke are you playing?" Castiel's face contorted with revulsion, and he gradually withdrew to the other end of the table, trembling. His voice faltered as he uttered, "You had Dean assault me just so you and Gabe could get near me?"

"Look, I can explain..." Chuck said, sliding along the table after Castiel. When the other man didn't respond, Chuck snapped his fingers a few times. "Castiel!"

Cas was jolted back only to find himself staring at the other inmate.

"We wanted to help you," Chuck continued.

"Help? How?" Castiel looked blank, his voice barely a whisper.

Chuck remained still, his mouth opening then closing as he thought. Several long seconds later, he sighed. "It's complicated."

"Try me," Castiel insisted.

"We wanted to prevent situations from happening like, you know, the one with Uriel," Chuck stammered, his hands waving about. Before Castiel could protest, Chuck pointed to another inmate. "See that guy over there?"

The man's torso was swathed in bandages, bruises visible along their edges. An orange scrub top was loosely draped across his shoulders.

"It was his turn to keep an eye on you when that happened."

A chill crept over Castiel. He hadn't realized there had been other victims. The other man looked like he had received worse treatment than Cas had. "Uriel did that to him?"

Chuck shook his head slightly. He let out a worried sigh before he said, "Let's just say he brought on himself."

It didn't make sense to Castiel. The guy was obviously one of Dean's if he was meant to keep Cas safe. If Uriel did not do that to him, then who—

"You mean Dean did that to him?" Castiel cried in disbelief.

"Prison 101, Castiel," Chuck stated calmly. "We live by a different set of rules from the outside world."

Castiel remained stumped. That inmate was injured not because he had been attacked, but because he had failed to keep watch on Cas?

"Ever play Jenga?" Chuck continued, ignoring the look of disbelief on Castiel's face. "Imagine each inmate here as woodblocks stacked on top of each other. Right now Dean is the one who keeps the vulnerable structure from falling."

"Then you come along," Chuck says, demonstrating with his hands. "But you're not a block; you're a... a crystal ball. How are you supposed to fit without causing the whole tower to collapse?"

Castiel frowned. "Why do you think I'm different?"

"I can see your soul, Castiel," Chuck said matter-of-factly. "Just like I can see Dean's and everyone's here."

Cas swallowed down a lump in his throat. He assured himself that there was no way Chuck could see his deepest secret.

"I don't care how you got in here but if you don't learn to stay out of trouble, other people are going to get hurt."

For whatever reason, Chuck was keeping things from him. It didn't make sense that Chuck wouldn't tell Cas, especially since everything seemed to revolve around him.

"Look," Chuck said with a small sigh. "Just so you know, Castiel, Dean is sorry about what he did to you. He really is."

Castiel thought of everything that had happened. His experience with Dean had been scary at first. It still was, though that was a different kind of fear. He was afraid of his true feelings for Dean; he was afraid to find out what Dean really felt for him. If nothing else he hoped Dean didn't regret it because Cas surely didn't.

"I know," Castiel gently replied before moving back to his tray. Breakfast would be over soon so he took a few bites. Chuck in turn gulped down his own food, and Castiel was thankful for the familiar sight.

~:~:~

Ducking his head to avoid everyone's eye contact, Castiel walked over to meet Gabriel at their usual spot during rec time. The shorter guy was sitting by himself on a bench, a lollipop stick rolling around between his lips.

"No class today," he said, taking the candy out as Castiel approached him.

"Shocking," Castiel murmured to himself. Everything was off today; that his self-defense class had also been cancelled shouldn't come as a surprise.

Before he could turn away, Gabriel stopped him.

"Sit," his teacher commanded. "It's my turn to keep watch on you. I'm not following you around."

Castiel rolled his eyes before dropping down next to the guy. This was just like living in a prison within a prison.

He was surprised, though, when Gabriel offered him candy. He unwrapped the package and took it into his mouth, watching as the other man let out a small sigh and gazed vacantly ahead.

"I'm sorry," Castiel mumbled. His teacher looked kind of lonely without his entourage beside him. Danny and Roy had also been given three nights in solitary for helping Cas out. Gabriel, however, had somehow managed to dodge the guards. "If there's anything I can do—"

"If you want to help me jerk off," Gabriel cut in. He sounded more bored than irritated. Castiel could only blink; again, he had no idea what he had missed.

"You think you're the only ones having sexy times here?" Gabriel snorted as Castiel's eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. "Only you could make that much noise. _'Dean, please,'_ " he mocked in high-pitched whines. " _'Dean!'_ "

Flames built within Castiel from a mixture of fury and embarrassment, and he hissed, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you are not worthy of your king!" Gabriel snapped, one hand slapping against the bench they were sitting on, making Cas jump. "You know why my boys and I can keep the relationship? Because we don't require half the population here to make sure we don't get a dick shoved up our asses!"

"There were four people!" Castiel fired back. He was getting sick of people accusing him instead of the culprits. "Four! How do you think I could have defended myself?"

"Do you think the same thing would happen to Dean?" Gabriel said, taunting Cas to his face. "That if Dean was cornered by four people he would just suck everyone's dicks?"

Castiel trembled at the memories. He remembered how degrading it had felt to be on his knees, his dignity ripped away from him. While one dick was choking him, three others were being jerked, waiting for their turns to persecute him.

He felt like vomiting.

"It can't happen again," Castiel kept chanting to himself. It couldn't happen again. He had more than enough nightmares to deal with. Adding another would only push him to the brink of insanity.

"Cas, Cassie, hey, you with me?"

Until Gabriel shushed him, Castiel hadn't realized he'd been rocking. This couldn't be happening. His voice broke as he begged, "Help me."

~:~:~

The days passed by slowly, and Castiel recoiled from any form of human interaction. He was grateful that everyone kept their distance for whatever reason (except Chuck who stayed plastered to him like super glue), though that only served as a constant reminder of just how vulnerable he was. Sometimes his eyes would meet those obviously belonging to his bodyguards which would make him feel even more feeble.

Other than his class with Gabriel, Castiel only eagerly awaited Dean's return. He couldn't really feel safe unless he knew Dean was nearby. He would also very much like to continue from where they left off — the adrenaline fueled kiss they shared just before the guards hauled them away — though he was skeptical about whether Dean would feel the same way. Not knowing when Dean was to be released that day, he was surprised to find the other man already sitting on the top bunk after breakfast.

Castiel had been standing inside their cell for quite some time, but Dean seemed ignorant of his presence, even when the blare of the siren startled him and the metal bars slid shut. It shattered all his anticipation. Dean probably wanted to play their little silence game again, but he could not allow that to continue.

He finally mustered his courage. "Hello, Dean."

Dean set the book he'd been reading aside and casually propped himself up on his elbow. "Oh, hey, Cas."

Letting out the breath he had been holding, Cas asked, "How have you been?"

"I missed my bed," Dean replied, relaxing into a stretch and rolling back onto the mattress. Castiel was reminded of a cat and his heart fluttered at the thought.

"Look," Cas said, drawing Dean's attention back to him. Castiel dared to step closer, looking right into Dean's eyes as he continued, "Thank you for saving me, Dean."

"You're very welcome," Dean replied with a beautiful smile that seemed to make his freckles shimmer. Then, for a moment, Castiel thought Dean would touch him, ruffle his hair or cup his cheek, but his hope turned frail when his hand fell back to the bed.

Dean cleared his throat to break the awkward silence. "So, uh," he began. "You've been good?"

At the question, Castiel couldn't help but look down and toy with his fingers. "Yeah, I guess," he replied with a reluctant shrug. As good as he could be — he doubted anything could be called _good_ here. "Chuck kept me company most of the time, and Gabriel has been very helpful."

Dean nodded grimly. "Good," he said more to himself than to Cas.

"Dean," Castiel said, looking up at Dean again. Dean met his gaze. "I'm sorry that you — everyone — had to go through so much trouble because of me. I want you to know that I really appreciate all that you've done, but you don't need to worry about me now. You can drop your guard since I'm excelling in my lessons with Gabriel."

It was not that he was confident with his defense techniques now (though he was determined to be able to take care of himself, eventually), he just didn't want other people to get hurt because of him.

"Yeah?" A lop-sided grin spread across Dean's face as he slid down from his bunk, his focus suddenly resembling that of a bird of prey. Castiel took a few uncertain steps back, but Dean followed. "Let's see, shall we?"

Suddenly, Dean seized Castiel by the shirt with both hands and threw him against the bars. Just as quickly, Castiel grabbed at Dean's shirt and slid down, throwing Dean off balance enough that he hit his head against the bars. Bashing Dean in the elbow knocked the strength from his hold, then Castiel attacked the other man's abdomen until he was loose. He stood, pushed Dean away and hurled himself after, intending to follow through with a kick to the crotch. At the last minute though, he realized what he was doing and broke off his attack. He landed full-force on Dean and they stumbled backwards, arms around each other until they hit the edge of the bunks.

"Whoa, easy, tiger," Dean said, his wide grin betraying the prominently perilous situation. "You're going to hurt baby Winchester?"

Castiel went red to his ears and he tried to catch his breath, although he'd say it was because of the fight and not because Dean's flushed face was only inches away.

"Sorry," he mumbled without the slightest hint of atonement; Castiel was too distracted by Dean's plump lips. Dean's arms still locked him in place with his back set against the bed's ladder, but Castiel had no intention of moving.

Dean chewed his lower lip in a way Cas could only interpret as seductively, and Castiel flicked his eyes to the man in front of him. Dean's hazel irises had turned deep green, and Castiel could say his sensibilities had been taken over by the demanding urges in his nether region.

He closed the space between them, nibbling on the luscious mouth that was too enticing to resist. He pressed himself into Dean, their tongues playing together as the kiss became heated. Castiel clasped his hands behind Dean's neck as desperate hands groped down his back, his hips—

" _Ah! Fuck! Yes! That's it! Harder!"_

They both stopped. Now they were facing each other but the voice was still audible, if not louder. Straining his ears, Castiel could hear uncanny cries, throaty moans, shaky breath and _holy—_ was that the sound of skin slapping skin?

"What is that?" Castiel wondered out loud, his voice low and guttural.

Dean smirked amusedly. "I think Gabriel is giving us free porn," he replied with a wink.

Castiel groaned into Dean's shoulder. Didn't the guy say he didn't like making a show of it?

" _Yes, baby! That's it right there! Give it to me! Faster!"_

This must be what it was like when others had to listen to _his_ noises. It was embarrassing. Then inmates from other cells began to catcall and heckle the porn-star couple. At least when Dean had him going he didn't shout out 'Harder, Dean, please, right there!'

 _Shit._ The image was making his groin twitched dangerously, and Gabriel's noises weren't helping. Dean held him still, but Castiel swore he could feel Dean's muscles ripple.

" _Yeah! That's it, boy! Ride me, my strong stallion! Breed me with your seed!"_

Both he and Dean cracked up at the same time. Other people were making loud gagging sounds.

"Now _that_ 's a major turn off," Dean commented smugly, and Castiel couldn't agree more.

"I say we continue our show after lights out," Dean purred into his ear and Castiel felt himself blush in response. "What do you say?"

"If you wish, Dean," he replied with a smile, placing one quick kiss to Dean's lips. At least he would not be alone tonight. "But no show."

"Whatever you say, angel," Dean said with a cheerful grin.

Castiel stiffened at the nickname, but he brushed it away with a shake of his head.

~:~:~

That night Dean settled onto Cas' bed instead of his own, and leisurely they kissed resting side by side. Castiel would've been content, but he dreaded every passing minute since they both would doze off soon.

"Dean," he said, breaking the kiss to rub his thumb along Dean's stubble. His eyes met attentive green. "I want you to touch me."

When Dean pulled away Castiel couldn't read the look on his face; but then, he was being kissed again and gently pushed onto his back. Dean straddled his waist, pressing their bodies together as he nuzzled, then ravished the crook of Cas' neck.

Castiel writhed under Dean's weight, his neck straining as he arched into the touch. This was happening and he needed to feel it. He needed to feel the way Dean took over his body, mind, and soul — but his clothes were in the way.

He pushed at Dean until he could remove his top. Once gone, he pulled Dean down to his chest because he loved the way Dean breathed heat across his heart before sucking on his hard nipples. Dean trailed his kisses lower, and Castiel gasped then sighed in relief when his pants were shoved aside. A palm spread over his leaking head then wrapped around his hard cock, gently stroking it. Castiel moved his hips, desperate for a more satiating touch, but Dean held him down. It took all Castiel had not to knock Dean off with his knees when Dean nibbled at his thigh.

"Dean, please," he whimpered.

He could feel the moment Dean smirked into his skin but when lips wrapped around his erection, Castiel abruptly recoiled away from the touch. His back hit the metal at the head of the bed as memories flooded him, the memories of someone else's dick pushing to the back of his throat mingling with those of how he had thrust into Dean's mouth until he could no longer tell which was which. Castiel clutched at the sheet until his fingers ached but he couldn't stop himself from shaking.

"Hey, hey," Dean said gently. He climbed onto Cas' lap, and the weight pinning Cas to the mattress was steady and calming. When Dean forcefully unclasped Cas' fingers and entwined them with his own, he pampered Cas' ears with sweet nonsense, a soothing litany. Once Dean had a hold on him, he pulled Cas' hands above his head and then some, stretching Cas out until he was straining. Surprisingly, it did the trick.

Dean leaned in closer, ghosting warm breath and a soft touch over his lips until Cas' erratic heartbeat started to slow. Soon, Castiel surrendered his fear to Dean's hold and fell limp to the control. Licking at his lips brought a kiss from Dean, unhurried as though Dean could spend all the time in the world cherishing him.

When Castiel visibly relaxed, Dean let go of him. Cas slowly slid back down to the bed without breaking the kiss, his arms wrapping around Dean and pulling until they were once more kissing lazily.

After a long while Castiel pulled away slightly. Dean's lips were beautifully red and juicy.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, one finger picking at Dean's scrub top. Dean was still fully clothed while Castiel was completely naked. Dean pulled him in and hugged him tight.

"No need to apologize," Dean said, kissing the top of his head. "Better get you dressed before you fall asleep, huh?"

Dean moved to find Castiel's discarded clothes and Cas started to panic. No, no, it couldn't end like this. He'd rather be cut into pieces than have to replay his parents' death again.

Castiel crawled on top of Dean, straddling him and rocking their hips together. "No, Dean," he cried pathetically. "I need you."

_I need you to help to me, Dean. Help me get away from those nightmares. Touch me. Take me. Anything you want. Just make them go away!_

"Okay, okay, Cas. Cas!" Dean cried. When Castiel didn't stop, he placed both hands on Cas' hips, steadying them. "Okay," Dean said, only starting again when he had Castiel's attention, "but I need you to trust me on this. Do you trust me?"

_Foolishly so, yes._

Castiel nodded.

"Say it," Dean commanded.

But Castiel was reluctant. Did he really know Dean? He knew Dean had saved him from Uriel and the gang, but perhaps Dean was just a possessive psycho-freak who didn't want to share Cas with anyone. Admittedly, he kind of appreciated not being tossed around. Being molested by one person was, of course, better than being assaulted by the entire prison population — _if_ molested was the right word at all.

With no consent issues, Dean's touch might not be that bad. He might even _crave_ them – those warm and protective gropes.

But saying it out loud was not easy; he'd end up either lying or admitting an unwelcome fact. Maybe he could convince himself that he did this because he had yet to prove the connection between Dean and his nightmares.

Softly and slowly, looking Dean in the eyes, he said, "I trust you."

"Okay," Dean said with a firm nod. "Now kiss me."

So Castiel leaned down and kissed Dean who welcomed it eagerly. Dean braced his arms against Cas' shoulder blades, pulling Cas in and pushing himself up, tightening the hug. The kiss evolved into something needy and desperate, and Castiel found himself frotting against Dean's growing erection. Dean raked his fingers along Cas' spine and Cas grunted into the kiss. He felt heat building up as Dean rubbed the small of his back, pressing their hips together and curving his palms down Cas' ass. Castiel couldn't help arching his back as he thrust his hips harder against Dean's.

Dean took advantage and threw Cas down on the bed, manhandling him until he was on his stomach. Cas didn't have time to panic as Dean draped himself over Cas, the full weight of Dean's body pressing him into the mattress, his painful, throbbing erection trapped against his stomach between them. Dean sucked the spot behind his ear — Cas knew Dean knew he loved it, and Cas couldn't help but _mewl_.

Castiel writhed as Dean trailed his way down and along the way found sensitive spots Cas never realized were there. He tried, within the tight space he was granted, to rub his leaking cock against the firm mattress and wriggle his ass against Dean's hips. His whole body was burning and Cas was desperate for something, anything to tamp down the fire.

"Dean, please," he begged, his voice no more than a pitiful sob. "Please."

Sitting up, Dean braced his back against the wall and pulled Cas between his wide-spread legs. Castiel leaned back until his head rested on Dean's shoulder. He could feel Dean's thick cock rubbing against the small of his back. Dean hugged him tight, his hands roaming over Cas' chest, squeezing his stomach, scrubbing along his lower thighs - touching anywhere but his pulsing and desperate-for-attention cock.

Castiel reached for it, but Dean batted his hand away.

"Why, Dean?" Cas asked, pressing himself further into Dean, one hand reached up to grab at Dean's hair. "I need—"

"You need my fingers, Cas?" Dean purred, nibbling at his earlobe. Cas quickly nodded and groaned. "Put 'em where you want 'em."

Castiel at once grabbed Dean's hands, placing one on his cock and one on his testicles. Dean gave them a gentle squeeze, eliciting a satisfying moan from Cas' lips.

"Keep your hands over mine," Dean whispered, but all Cas could hear was hot breath in his ear. He didn't remove his hands though, even when Dean quickened his pace.

Cas barely had the strength to control his body, let alone where his fingers were. When he felt the familiar build of tension, hands that had been simply placed over Dean's now pressed him on. Dean's rasping breath scattered the droplets of sweat that ran down Cas' back. A few hard pulls later, Castiel's muscles tensed up and he came, spilling hot over their hands. Dean milked out every last drop, smearing streams across Cas' belly and thigh.

Leaning back against Dean, Castiel drowned in the afterglow as the other man cleaned them up. Arms clasping around his waist, Dean placed a few kisses to Cas' sweaty hair.

Castiel could have fallen asleep right then, content in his post-orgasmic bliss, but he realized a problem remained. Dean was still hard — Cas could feel it against his back, reminding him of his own selfishness. Castiel had never been known to be rude, and he didn't want to change his reputation now.

Slowly, he turned toward Dean, kissing the corner of his mouth then finding his way in past the seam of his lips. He tentatively slid his hand under Dean's shirt to trace the toned muscles before sliding down to hook his trembling fingers into Dean's waistband. His hand was pulled away.

"Leave it, Cas," Dean said as he untangled their limbs. He fetched clean clothing from the shelf and helped Castiel get dressed.

Castiel was dumbfounded. What was supposed to be consensual sex had turned into a one-sided jerk off session. In a way he was relieved since he wasn't sure he was ready for full man-on-man sex, but he had believed — had _trusted_ — that Dean wanted him too. That was now crumbling to pieces.

Dean positioned them until they were spooning each other with Dean hugging him from behind. "Goodnight, Cas," he said as he kissed the back of Cas' head. Castiel blinked into the darkness. He had wanted to cuddle, to feel warm and protected; but now, all he felt was empty and cold.

~:~:~


	7. Prisoner of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gives Dean a visit, and with him come a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is beta read by **alittlebitwicked**. Thanks, girl. And thank you to all of you who left your reviews for the last chapter!

Dean opened his eyes, looking at the man below him. Cas was squirming, but it was not because he was having some troubled dreams. Maybe it was the morning chill. Dean pulled the blanket up, pulled Cas in closer and watched as he wiggled into him, then relaxed; his breath evened out in a peaceful sleep.

It was deep dark outside, but, judging from the weather, it wouldn't be long before first light crept up across the air. Dean nuzzled his nose into Cas' tousled hair, breathing in the smell of sweat and stale prison shampoo. It was not an attractive scent, to be honest, but Dean was fond of it nonetheless – for it was a scent of security, of knowing Cas was safe in his arms.

The last three nights in solitary were torture. Even though Dean had received word that Cas was safe, that everyone kept their distance and tight guards had been set around him, Dean couldn't put his mind to rest. At night, he would think of their first kiss, and how it could mean a hundred different things, which ninety-nine of them basically meant Cas did not share the same feelings he did. But most of all, he wondered how Cas was coping with the trauma.

Cas shuffled and turned away to lie on his back. Faintest light of dawn began swamping in and Dean propped up on his elbow to get a better look on his cherub's face – with cherub being _not_ the physical aspect of it. With always tense and worn-out complexion, Cas looked older than his age, whatever his age might be. Wrinkles and frowns that adorned his slightly droopy eyes and lack of smiles made him look perpetually sad. Cas might have lost a few pounds since he got here, if his sharp cheek bones and cleft chin hidden away behind bristling stubble was any indication.

As the sky got brighter, Dean noticed along the exposed skin above the neckline of Cas' clothes were dark bruises. He remembered he saw more of those on Cas' wrists, stomach and down at the ankles. Dean felt his chest constrict even before he could imagine what Cas had gone through to get those bruises.

Castiel startled at the blaring sound of the morning alarm. Dean placed a hand on his chest to steady him, but once Cas saw him, he promptly backed away. Dean's heart sank but he managed to put on a tight smile. What was more painful, however, was that Cas took a quick glance at his wrists as if to check for new bruises. Soon he realised what had really happened and attacked Dean with a hug.

Gulping down the lump in his chest, Dean said, "Morning, sunshine," trying to sound as cheery as possible. Kissing the top of Cas' hair, he tightened the embrace.

Cas pulled back and flashed a smile: a genuine, beaming smile that went up to his cheeks, eyes and more, and it blew all Dean's troubled feelings away.

"Thank you, Dean," he said before attacking Dean again, this time with a clash of lips and teeth. Dean ran his fingers through those dishevelled morning hair, ready to deepen the kiss, but, hearing people's voices and movements, he had to pull away from the clingy angel.

"I'd better get going," he said.

Cas nodded, fervent giddiness evident in his eyes.

Dean stopped at the metal gates of their cell, looking back at Castiel who was curling under the covers and returning his gaze with a lovely small smile. Dean gripped the metal bar tighter, feeling its cold surface and rigidity resisting the grip against his palm. How Dean would love to spend more time cuddle that little ball of blanket. How Dean wished they didn't live in a schedule so they could kiss as long as they wanted, or even share some morning sexy times.

Hearing footsteps approached, Dean quickly tore himself away and disappeared.

~:~:~

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean greeted his Sasquatch of a brother with a big grin, opening his arms for a hug as he got nearer. Sam returned the hug with a few pats to Dean's back.

Removing himself from Dean's hold, Sam revealed who he had hidden behind his back.

"The fuck are you doing here?" Dean snarled.

Gabriel just snorted. He was sitting cross-legged and cross-armed on a chair next to the table Sam was obviously occupying. "I'm here to see your brother, Dean."

"And why the hell are you here to see my brother?" Dean bit. He tried to move closer to the irksome man, but Sam held him by the arm.

"I need his help with something," Gabriel replied nonchalantly.

"And what the fuck would you need his help with?" Dean did his best to tower above the short guy. They were usually in good terms with each other, but Dean found himself getting impatient every time Gabriel was somewhere near his brother.

Gabriel just clicked his tongue. Standing up, he taunted Dean in the face. "Don't you know, Deano," he said with a pat on Dean's cheek. Dean would have knocked some teeth off that smug face if Sam didn't hold him back. "Sharing is sexy."

Dean hurled his fist but Sam grabbed it tight.

"Gabe, just leave, please," Sam said wearily.

"Gabe?" Dean turned to scorn Sam after the irritating shorty went out of sight. "Since when have you two been on a nickname basis?"

"Dean, you're being ridiculous," Sam glared. "He's a friend, you know that."

"Yeah, a pervert friend who tried to get into your pants," Dean huffed. It was obvious what type of men Gabriel favoured. It was unnerving that the type exactly matched his brother's. "Did you know he gave us free porn the other day?" Dean feigned a gag.

"I know," Sam returned with an awkward gulp. Dean gaped. How could Sammy know that shit? "He told me. He also told me of your free little porno as well."

Dean felt his face burn. He was so going to kill that big-mouth bastard!

"How are you holding up?" Sam changed the subject.

"I'm doing okay," Dean replied, softening up at the genuine concern in Sam's voice. "So, what've you got?"

Sam opened the few files that looked like police reports on the table. "Meet Castiel Milton," Sam said, turning a full-face photo of Cas Dean's way. "35-year-old primary school teacher. Resident of Sacramento, California. Divorced. Parents Mark and Alena Milton, murdered three years ago. One younger sister, Anna Milton. Clean record. Never busted once until he murdered two men three states away."

But Dean could hardly concentrate. He wanted to give a thank you kiss to whoever chose Cas photo for the file. His face was bright with crisp jawlines and kissable cleft chin dusted with contrasting dark fuzz. His eyes were heavenly blue and his hair a mess that begged to be ruffled. He had no tense creases or sorry droop that he sported these days. Dean idly wondered if he could keep the photo.

Dean was jabbed back to reality by Sam poking a finger at the corner of his lips. "Don't drool on my photo," he teased.

"Bitch," Dean snorted, tossing the photo back to Sam.

Sam caught the sliding photo with one hand. "Jerk," he came back.

"So, uh," Dean continued, waving one finger. "Anything on Anna?"

"Yes," Sam replied with a sigh, handing Dean a photo of a red-haired girl. "Anna Milton. 29. Single. She owns a small restaurant in Sacramento. The Milton's siblings were born and raised in Chino, California. They moved to the capital after Anna dropped out of a med school, where they ran the restaurant together until Castiel got married in 2007. He then went into teaching and never returned to work at the restaurant even after the divorce."

Dean nodded. He wondered if Sam knew if Cas was seeing anyone at the moment, but he dared not ask.

"What do you know about the murder?"

Sam took out a file from under the pile then opened it, revealing crime scene photos. Dean sifted through them. They were horrendous scenes, Dean thought, and he had his fair share of all things horrendous. Two men were lying in a dark pool of blood, limbs twisting artfully, internal organs gushing out of their torsos. Dean's face contorted as he felt the disgusting taste of bile rise up in his throat.

"Don't tell me Cas did all of this?" Dean asked, his voice so hoarse and rough Dean felt like it was scraping the inside of his mouth.

"Unfortunately that's what he said," Sam replied with a small sigh. He could tell Dean didn't take it too well. "Found a strand of hair on one of the vic's bodies. DNA matched Castiel's and he confessed to everything. Case closed."

But Dean wasn't listening. The horrible images of the crime scene wouldn't leave the back of his eyes even though he looked at them for less than a minute. Surely his angel couldn't do any of this — a man so naïve he made Ken doll a male stripper. He believed Cas did not do it. There was no fucking way—

"Dean, you okay?" Sam cut Dean's train of thoughts.

Dean cleared his throat to hide the awkwardness of getting caught drifting away. "Yeah, uh, who are these guys?" he asked.

"Darryl Halligan and Gary Navarra. Both just moved here last year. Darryl was a gardener and Gary a paramedic. No connection to the Milton's whatsoever. According to his statement, Castiel said he met these two at a bar, followed them home and killed them."

Dean kneaded his temples. "Does any of this make any sense to you?" He asked with narrowed eyes. Sam shook his head slightly in response. "He drove three states away from his comfort zone just to follow some random guys home and kill them?"

Seeing Dean fidgeting nervously, Sam said what he hoped would be reassuring. "I'll keep looking into it, okay?"

But Dean's mind was racing. He was struggling to draw logic out of illogical dots. "You said his parents were murdered?" asked Dean. Sam nodded. "Did the police find any connection?"

"I don't think the police did anything much after he confessed, Dean," Sam said. "They got the evidence, and then he confessed. It was pretty open and closed. As far as the police were concerned there was nothing left to investigate."

 _Stupid police_ , Dean scoffed. There were good reasons why he never liked them. "You look into that too," he ordered his little brother. "And go visit Anna. She might be able to give us something."

Dean was nervous. There was so much work to do. He wished he were outside so he could help Sam.

"Dean," Sam blurted. "Are we assuming Castiel is _not_ guilty here?"

"We are not assuming," Dean said, slightly irritated. He _knew_ Cas was not guilty. He couldn't tell why. He had been with more than enough scumbags to be able to rate them in different scales just by a look or a single interaction, and Cas fell into the minus zero zones. But that was not why he believed Castiel wasn't guilty. There was _something_ — the same force that drawn him to Cas — that told him Cas could not be behind these murders. And Dean felt like he grew a vagina just at the thought of it. "We are going to prove that Cas is not guilty."

Sam just stared at him. After a while, he softened up. "Okay," he said. Dean was grateful, even though deep down he knew Sam agreed only to appease him. "I'll get Jo to help."

Dean overtly cringed at the name so that Sam knew he was not too thrilled with the idea. But this was for Cas, and he would swallow his dick down for him. "Yeah, you do that," he finally said.

"Dean," Sam called again, looking up from under his fringe. Dean knew it meant something very serious was coming his way. "Is he a liability to you?"

"What? No!" Dean winced suddenly.

"We didn't want to get you a cellmate, but you know how prison population is getting more and more crowded. It's inevitable. So we chose the one who seemed to be the most docile for you, but if he's causing you any trouble—"

"No!" Dean cut him off.

"But he just landed you in lockdown!" Sam wouldn't back down.

"I said no!" Dean retorted more harshly. Sam pursed his lips. "You do what I said. Nothing else. Got it?"

If Sam got it, he didn't show. Instead he gave Dean his infamous bitch face, but that was really all Dean needed.

"Where's my pie?" Dean diverted Sam's attention.

Sam gave another bitch face before turning to fetch it out of his messenger bag. He placed a box of a pie on the table. Dean shot a look at a prison guard nearby, who happened to find the far side of the room interesting all of a sudden. He shoved the box under his shirt and got up.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said, giving his brother a loose hug for fear the pie would be crushed.

"Yeah, Dean," Sam returned. "See you in a few days."

"You be good," Dean kept his gaze at his little brother. Cheesy as it was, he found the most difficult time in prison was actually the time he had to say goodbye to his brother after each visit.

"You too," Sam said, tugging both his hands in his pants pockets, watching as Dean walked away. Then he realised he missed something.

"Dean, wait." Sam ran up to Dean, pulling him closer by the arm. He kept his voice low. "Bobby sends his love," Sam started with something sweeter first. "And Ellen said her offer still stands."

As Sam had expected, Dean tensed at the mention of it. He always did, every time. But then he thought of that little ball of blanket he saw on the lower bed this morning, and his tension died away.

"I'll think about it," he said before turning to walk away.

Sam actually gaped, then beamed at him. At least Dean got the two people he cared about most to genuinely smile today and the best apple pie in the state tucked under his shirt. If only good days such as this came more often.

~:~:~

Once Dean stepped out of the visiting room, he saw Gabriel was there waiting for him. Dean stopped, and the prison guard who escorted him stopped a few steps away.

"Got a present for you," Gabriel said, rising up from the wall he was leaning on and handing Dean a book. Dean took it and smirked. 'The Ultimate Guide to Muscle Car Restoration' spread across the cover. So this was what Gabe got from his brother for him.

"Thanks," he said with a wide grin.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot," he scorned. Then he reached out to the book, peeling off the dust jacket, revealing a book titled 'A Guide for Partners of a Rape Survivor' inside.

"The hell?" Dean muttered with a frown.

"Like I would actually get you a book for you to enjoy," Gabriel explained with exasperation. "I only put that on the cover because I know this way Castiel won't pry on it."

But Dean hardly listened as he flipped open to the table of contents page. It listed topics on rape trauma syndrome, coping after sexual assaults, tips on what to say and not to say, how to handle difficult situations, etc. Dean was lost for words. He didn't realise there would be so many effects. Cas seemed okay for the most part.

"Look," Gabriel said in a serious voice. "I love that kid like I do my own brother. You treat him right, or I swear to God I'll slit your throat," he threatened. Dean gulped. He was not usually intimidated by the guy, but Dean didn't think he'd try to get him angry. "I may not succeed, but at least I'll die trying."

Dean nodded. Once Gabriel was satisfied, he walked away, leaving Dean to stand speechless in the corridor clutching the thick book.

~:~:~

"Hey, Cas," Dean greeted the dark-haired man who was sitting reading on his bed, relieved to see it wasn't the book Gabriel gave him this morning. It was past dinnertime and the first time they had seen each other since they parted this morning.

"Hello, Dean," Cas quickly closed the book and jumped to his feet. Dean thought the guy would scoot over to him, but he ended up shuffling on his feet.

"Take it you like reading," Dean said, nodding to the book abandoned on the bed. Dean felt Cas' eyes following him as he walked over to throw the towel on his bunk.

"I'm sorry I took your book without permission," Cas mumbled and fidgeted nervously.

"It's okay, Cas," Dean said, turning to the guy next to him with an assuring grin. "You can take any book from the shelf. I won't mind." Then he told himself to find somewhere else to keep that 'Muscle Car' book.

"Thank you," Cas said softly, keeping his gaze down at the floor.

Dean inwardly sighed. Cas still seemed afraid of him and honestly that was the last thing Dean wanted.

"Can you recite a poem?" Dean asked.

"What?" Cas snapped his head up at the sudden question.

"I said, can you recite a poem?" Dean repeated with a smile, one arm draping over the top bunk while the other resting on his hip in what he hoped was a seemingly comfortable posture.

"A few," Cas replied vacantly, but he kept piercing his gaze into Dean as if he could figure out why Dean asked just by looking deep enough into his eyes.

"Show me," Dean said firmly, a hint of dare in his voice.

Cas opened his mouth as if he was going to ask why, but he swallowed it down. Instead, he set off with a line, "She walks in beauty—"

"Not that one," Dean cut him off rudely, and Cas' voice faltered. His gaze fell to the floor once again.

"Oh, no, no," Dean stuttered and mentally bit his tongue that slipped off faster than his wit. How could he tell Cas that he was being a dick because he didn't want to hear him ponder over some beautiful woman?

"You know it's not very wise to talk about sexy ladies around here," Dean said cautiously. "Try another one."

Cas just nodded, took a deep breath, before he began again:

" _Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,  
_ _Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,  
_ _While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,"_

"Lower your voice," Dean interrupted.

"What?" Cas stumbled with a baffling look on his face.

"Continue, but in softer voice," Dean instructed.

Cas frowned, but he lowered his voice, and continued,

" _As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.  
_ _"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;  
_ _Only this, and nothing more.'"_

"Lower," Dean said again, but this time Cas did not stop. He just continued in an even lower voice.

" _Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,  
_ _And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor."_

"Yeah, keep your voice at this level," Dean said, and Cas only returned with a tilt of his head, while kept reciting his narrative poem.

" _Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow  
_ _From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.  
_ _For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,  
_ _Nameless here forevermore."_

Cas' slowly came to a stop over the last couple of lines. His voice was soft and sad as if it hurt him just to think of what was happening in the poem.

So Dean didn't push him further. Instead, he said, "Remember to keep your voice at this level when we talk, okay?" Last thing Dean needed was for others to pry into their private business, and he fully intended to get more and more private with Castiel.

"But this is barely a whisper," Cas said tensely.

Dean grinned. He bent over and purred into Cas' ear, "Then you'll have to lean in a little closer."

Cas' ear went red, and Dean couldn't suppress his laughter.

After his laughter died down, Dean climbed up his bed to retrieve a set of handcuffs from the back of his shelf, but when Dean moved back down, Cas had retreated to the far end of the bed, his face as pale as a ghost.

"Whoa." Dean lifted his hands up, the handcuffs hanging loosely in one of them. "Cas, I'm not going to hurt you."

But Cas was still shaking. He fixed his gaze at the handcuffs in Dean's hand.

"I'm going to put them down, okay?" Dean said, slowly placing the handcuffs down on the lower bed, closer to the end, closer to Cas.

Once the handcuffs were on the bed and Dean's hands were up in the air again, Cas shifted his eyes to Dean. His voice was low and breaking when he asked, "What is it for?"

"I'm going to teach you how to pick the lock," Dean replied. "It's a survival technique, Cas. You need to know how; it could be a matter of life and death."

Cas loosened his grip on the bed pole a little, but still not moving.

"Look, I have a key here," Dean said, showing a tiny key in his palm. "You keep it."

He offered the key to Cas, but Cas did not move until Dean prompted one more time. He quickly grabbed the key away from Dean's hand, then retreated back to the end of the bed.

"You try it," Dean said, nodding towards the handcuffs on the bed. He remained still, hands holding up in plain sight to show Cas that he had no intention of hurting him.

Cas hesitated for a long moment. Then he grabbed the handcuffs and stood as far from Dean as he could. He fumbled with it and after a few tries could get a cuff to spring free from its lock. He looked back at Dean who smiled back at him.

"Are we good?" Dean asked.

Cas reluctantly nodded. He handed the cuffs back to Dean, but kept the key securely with himself.

Dean took them and sat down on the lower bed, his legs dangling off the edge.

"Come sit here," Dean beckoned Cas over.

Cas shuffled for a brief moment more, then he came sitting next to Dean. He was surprised at how close Cas pressed into his side: their thighs touching, their arms overlapping each other.

If anything, Dean was pleased rather than awkward at the close proximity.

Dean took out a paperclip and stretched it in front of him for Cas to see. "Okay, you have a paperclip here," he instructed. "Stick it into the lock, bend it this way until you got a hook like this." Dean showed him the clip that now turned into a small L-shape metal pin. "Now put it in the other way and tweak it." One of the cuffs clicked open. "See? It's easy," Dean said with a triumphant grin. "You want to try?"

He offered the cuffs and a new paperclip to Cas, who took them with shaky hands. He followed what Dean did, and after a few clumsy tries, the cuffs slid off from its lock. A big smile crept up on his face as he handed the cuffs back to Dean.

"Good," Dean said proudly. They still needed to practice picking it while the cuffs was actually _on_ them, not in the air, but Dean guessed that was for another time.

"You want to keep these?" He asked, thinking Cas might feel more comfortable if he had control over them, but Cas shook his head.

"Okay," Dean said. "You can keep the key. Just don't lose it, okay?"

"Okay," Cas replied softly.

"I've got something for you." Dean tapped on Cas' knee before getting up to put the handcuffs away. He was glad Cas didn't ask how he got them in the first place. It was purely for Cas' educational purpose, he wouldn't want to be in a possession of something that could get him and its owner in trouble.

Brushing the thoughts away, Dean grinned upon seeing the box of apple pie he had kept since his meeting with Sam this morning. He took the box and sat back down next to his cellmate, slowly opening the box in front of them as if he was about to open a treasure chest. Dean was thrilled upon seeing the golden top of the pie, even if it was aligned to one side due to the position Dean carried it back to their cell. He was even more thrilled when he saw the look on Cas' face. His eyes went wide and Dean swore Cas was gulping.

"The best apple pie in the state," Dean whispered into Cas' ear.

Cas turned his gaze to Dean. He was barely able to hide his excitement. "How did you get this?" he asked.

"My brother visited me today," Dean gave an awkward reply that thankfully Cas did not notice. He left out the part that it was actually a violation of the rules to bring outside food into their cell, and for that Dean was glad Sam didn't ask why he wanted a whole pie instead of a piece he could finish up in the visiting room as usual.

"Come on. Let's try it." Dean handed a plastic fork to Cas. "No plate or knife so let's forget table manners, shall we?"

Cas just grinned a genuinely happy grin at him and Dean felt like his appetite had already been sated even without the help of his favourite dessert.

Dean ducked his head away to hide the blush he knew he had on his cheeks. He stuck his fork into the pie, scooped up a mouthful, and shoved the pie into his mouth. He couldn't help the strangled moan that escaped his lips the moment the fruity delight touched his tongue. Castiel's gaze followed his movements in awe, and Dean almost choked on his pie because at this moment Cas looked more like he wanted to savour Dean than the dessert itself.

Coughing, Dean gestured towards the pie and Cas tore his gaze away shyly. He put the fork into the pie tentatively, before taking up a small bite and he fucking _moaned_ when the pie got into his mouth. Dean held his breath. Now he knew why Cas looked like he was going to eat Dean alive, because the pie maybe scrumptious, but Cas with pie was sure as hell a hundred times more.

It took all of Dean's effort to shift his focus back to the pie. He savaged the tempting creation like his life depended on it. Castiel took his bites more steadily, not as harsh as Dean did, but also did not stop.

"You know what goes best with apple pie?" Dean asked casually, whirling the plastic fork in the air.

"First flush Darjeeling—"

"Vanilla ice cream—" They both said at the same time.

"The hell is first flush… whatever?" Dean cried.

The corner of Cas' mouth just curled up into a pretty smile. "Darjeeling is a kind of tea, Dean," Castiel said fondly, in the hushed tone Dean had trained him to. "First flush means it is plucked in the first growing season of the year, usually following spring rains."

Dean hummed and nodded approvingly. "Sounds nice."

"It _is_ nice." Cas flashed another smile.

The sight was endearing. It compelled Dean to think maybe all he ever needed was a smile on Cas' face. He looked at Cas who continued eating obliviously and Dean felt everything he ever did and gave up was all worth it — his struggles, his fights, his sacrifices.

"You should try to eat more," Dean said softly, lifting a hand to gently stroke Cas' dark hair. "I know the food here is unbearable most of the time, but I can't sneak in burgers everyday if I wanted to."

Talking about burgers, Dean could think of three different joints within a thirty-mile radius of where they were that served really, really good burgers. How nice would it be if he could take Cas there. He was very sure Cas would love it, even though he did not know whether Cas liked burger or not.

Cas put his fork down. He turned to look Dean directly in the eyes. "Thank you, Dean," he said. "I'll try to eat more."

Dean stroked Cas' hair a few times more with a smile. He knew Cas wasn't lying. He was easier to read than a book for first-graders.

"You full?" Dean asked. There was still quite a large portion left in the box.

Cas nodded.

"We can finish this tomorrow," Dean closed the lid and got up to put the pie away. Just then the main light went out, signalling time for bed. When Dean got his feet back to the ground and turned back, Cas was plastered to him. Lips crashed and Dean had only a brief moment to slide his arms around Cas' waist before he was pressed back to the ladder.

Cas licked at his lips and Dean was more than willing to give him the access he needed. Cas' tongue slid in instantly and Dean thought he might overdose on sugar just by the sweetness of it. He could taste apples and butter and cinnamon in his mouth. Judging by the moans in Cas' throat, Dean assumed he could taste the same thing on him too. They might have just found a more mouth-watering way to finish their leftover pie.

Cas pulled away to catch his breath. His face was flushed hot; his eyes clouded in a daze. "Tell your brother," he rasped, "I said thank you."

"Sure thing," Dean replied with a smirk.

Castiel pushed himself off Dean. He reached up to grab the blanket from Dean's bed and threw it on his bed. Dean grabbed the pillow and both of them settled on the lower bed as though it was a very normal thing for them to do.

They lied facing each other when Cas asked, "Does your brother come here often?"

Dean chuckled. "When he can."

"What does he do?"

"Sam's a lawyer," was Dean's prepared answer. He hated having to lie to Cas, but he couldn't give out what they actually did, at least not while they were in this place. "What about you? You got any siblings too?"

"Yes, I have a younger sister, Anna."

Dean thought he sounded sad when he replied. Sam didn't say Anna was dead, so she must still be alive, but why did Cas have nightmares about his sister? Dean wondered if he could ask what Cas dreamed of, or whether he could mention the dream at all.

"Is she coming to visit you?" Dean pretended to ask innocently.

Cas ducked his head down, picking at the hem of Dean's shirt. "We're not close," he said softly but also firmly. Dean took the hint that meant Cas no longer wished to discuss this topic.

"We should get some sleep," Dean suggested and shifted so that Cas could snuggle into him. They lied there comfortably together. It was peaceful. However, it was quickly interrupted by the feeling of Cas trembling in his arms.

"Cas, you alright?" Dean asked, worried when he looked at the man below him through dim light.

The smaller man shook his head. He clutched Dean's top tightly and wiggled closer into him. His voice was broken when he looked up and begged, "Dean, please."

But Dean could hear the unspoken plea. _Dean, please, help me._ It was as clear as his own voice in his head. Cas was breaking, and he needed his help, and Dean was going to help him any way he could.

"Okay," Dean said, slowly climbing on top of Cas. For some reason, Cas seemed to find it comforting when he could feel Dean's weight on him. Cas pulled Dean down for a hurried kiss, his hips bucking up in frantic lunges.

"Cas, Cas, stop."

Because as much as Dean wanted it, he had to make sure he was really helping Cas, and not hurting him.

Cas slowly quieted down, his eyes blowing with mixed emotions when he looked at Dean — really, really looked at Dean — with expectations and trust that Dean knew he did not deserve.

"Listen to me," Dean started. "We need to set some rules if we are doing this, okay?"

Cas nodded. Dean could feel Cas' chest heave eagerly beneath him.

"You have to take the lead," Dean blurted. It felt weird coming from him, but this was for Cas. He repeated to himself. _This_ was for Cas. "You tell me what you want and I'll do it. You tell me what you don't want and I'll stop. No question asked. Deal?"

He felt Cas trying to shift beneath him, but he couldn't move much under his weight. So instead, Cas tilted his head and frowned. After a long while, he slowly nodded.

"Say it." Dean had to make sure that he and Cas were on the same page.

"I'll tell you what I want," Cas drew the words out carefully, blue eyes searching his for reassurance. "I'll tell you what I don't want."

"Good," Dean said firmly. "Now kiss me."

At the invitation, Cas instantly crashed his lips with Dean's. He gripped Dean's top tight and pulled him flushed against himself. Dean glided his hips lower, feeling Cas' growing erection against him.

It was a good thing (out of wrong means, Dean chided himself) that he knew what Cas liked, that he knew how to make Cas come undone underneath him.

But still, he needed to ask.

"What do you want, angel?" Dean hummed under Cas' jawbone where his neck met, the angle Dean knew, if he sucked, would send Cas' body shuddering. But instead of a shudder, Cas stiffened. Dean immediately stopped.

He pulled back slightly before asking, "You alright?"

Cas didn't shake his head, but he was restless. He kept fidgeting with Dean's top, eyes glancing from side to side. It took a moment before Cas finally said, "Please don't call me angel."

Dean was taken aback. _But you are my angel_ , he wanted to argue. His days had been dull and boring, but since Castiel appeared in his life, they began to shine. Loneliness and pain were no longer something intolerable. All the pretentious nonsense Dean used to be so proud of became pointless. Cas had shown him a new meaning to life — to living.

But _this_ was for Cas, Dean repeated to himself, and it was a good thing Cas could talk about what he did not want.

"Okay," Dean said. "How about," leaning himself down, he purred into Cas' ear, "baby?"

Cas shrieked. There was no other word to describe that high-pitched laughter that slipped through Cas' lips. Cas was grinning, rubbing his ear on his shoulder. "That tickles," he said, blushing.

Dean couldn't help the grin on his face. Cas' smile was contagious. But that was new. He never knew Cas was ticklish at any point.

"What tickles?" Dean purred into Cas' ear again, "this?" But Cas just gasped in response. "Or," Dean trailed, "honey?"

Cas shrieked again.

Dean grinned wickedly. "Sugar? Sweetheart?" He bombarded Cas' ear with sweet, endearing terms. Cas wouldn't stop laughing and brushing his ear. "Darling? Pumpkin?" Dean was getting more amused. If anything, his heart fluttered at how happy Cas was, at how he could wipe the weariness off Cas' face. "Love?"

Dean was suddenly pushed on his back and Cas straddled his waist. He leaned down to kiss Dean hungrily. It was full of passion, of possessiveness, of desperate yearning.

Cas pulled away and took off his own shirt. He sat back, staring at his hands that were placed on Dean's chest. It was as if he was looking, but didn't see.

"Cas?" Dean placed a hand on Cas' arm with caution. Above him, Cas' pale chest was flushed with heat.

Castiel curled his fingers into Dean's top and pulled. Dean pushed up on his elbows, but Cas pulled again, backing a little away so Dean could sit up. He nudged Dean to the side and Dean moved so his back leaned against the wall.

Straddling him, Cas slowly sat back down until Dean could feel Cas' erection against his. Then he _swung_ , a slow, slight back-and-forth movement of his hips that sent Dean's whole body shuddering. Dean placed his arms on the curve of Cas' back that was now arching like a graceful feline. Cas' wiry arms shook as he gingerly dragged his hard cock over Dean's – up and down – whimpering little mewing noises as he did so. Dean held his breath. It was the only way Dean could stop himself from bucking his hips into Cas, or pressing Cas' hips onto him.

Then Cas stopped. He simply slotted himself onto Dean's body, wrapped his arms around him, and placed his head on Dean's shoulder.

Dean let out the breath he had been holding and leaned his head back on the wall. Tonight was going to be a very long night.

"I…" Cas spoke. His voice was the hoarsest of hoarse, as if his vocal cord hadn't been used in a very long time. He mouthed something again; Dean could feel his lips moving against his collarbone, but it was inaudible.

"I'm not a whore," Cas whispered after a long while.

Dean grimaced and felt like he wanted to bang his head on the wall, hard, several times. He recalled having called Cas that on a few occasions, but it was all done on the spur of the moment – a very, very bad one.

"Of course you're not," Dean said remorsefully. "I'm sorry I said that to you. I didn't mean it, and I won't say it again," Dean reassured him.

Cas pushed himself up so he was now again sitting in front of Dean. The neon light glistened the trail of tears on Cas' cheek and Dean wiped them away with his thumb.

If only he could wipe away the damage as well.

"So…" Dean was going to ask if Cas wanted to sleep or continue, but Cas grabbed Dean's hand and quickly shoved it into his pants.

This time it was Dean who gasped.

He curled his fingers around Cas' hard-on, thumb smearing leaking precum. Cas' breath hitched as he lifted his hips up slightly, one hand pressing on Dean's chest for balance. Dean used his free hand to slip Cas' pants down his thigh, revealing his smooth-as-silk ass. Dean sped up his pace and, in response, Cas squirmed prettily, mewing those soft little noises next to his ear. Dean took it his challenge to turn this cute kitten into a wildcat.

But then Cas tore himself away. Dean almost groaned, thinking Cas wanted to stop, again. Instead, Cas removed his pants all the way off his feet. He lied down on the bed, pulling Dean down with him. Turning his back to Dean, Cas pulled one of Dean's hand over his hip to his cock. Dean immediately continued where he left off, but Cas reached his arm to pull Dean leg over him, so now half of Dean's body was draping over his. A position Dean was most grateful as his neglected erection was pressed tight on the small of Cas' back.

Cas tried to turn his face backwards. "Kiss me," he said softly. Dean propped up on his elbow and leaned over to give Cas a sloppy, open-mouth kiss, pressing more of his weight on him. Cas reached out his arm to clutch behind Dean's neck, pulling him in and devouring his tongue and lips like he had been famished.

Dean increased the pace on his fist and Cas bucked up into it, his hips frantically crushing on Dean's hard cock. He twisted his wrist, eliciting from Cas smutty groans that Dean swallowed down his throat.

Cas let go of Dean's head and turned to clutch tightly at the bed sheet, his breaths becoming erratic and his groans pressing as he fucked into Dean's hand, grinding his ass on Dean's cock with frenzied plunges.

Dean forced his weight on Cas again, squashing his erection on the back of Cas' ass because he, too, was desperate to come. Cas chose that moment to go rigid, spilling on Dean's hand and onto the mattress.

Resting his head on Cas' shoulder, Dean helped him emptying his load. Cas still looked bedazzled when Dean flopped back down on the bed, panting hard, breathless from their vigorous activity.

When Dean got up again, Cas had already fallen asleep, curling on his side. He rose to find the clothes that had been tossed God knows where. They might be needed if Cas woke up in the middle of the night because of the chill. Grabbing Cas' clothes and blankets, Dean settled back down, spooning Cas in his arms. His painful erection was still there, but he would take care of that later — or maybe not. He had given Cas a choice and Cas had chosen. It was, honest-to-God, the least of Dean's problems right now. He had an angel to protect — from both waking and sleeping nightmares — and that was all that mattered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first poem Cas recited was by Lord Byron. The second poem was The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. Thank you for reading!


	8. Are You Ready to be Heartbroken?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is how it goes on for the two of them — or rather the three of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is still reading this. You have the patience of a saint! Special thanks to [darkphoenix2345](http://archiveofourown.org/users/darkphoenix2345) for simply being awesome and incredibly supportive. Check out her stories if you haven't already!

Castiel put dirty clothes into a washing machine in the laundry room. It was the first time he came back to work after the Uriel incident. He couldn't say he was better, but life needed to go on, and so did his funding account. Nobody hired those who didn't show up at work, and he did not know how to find a new job if he had lost this one.

"Castiel!"

He jumped at the sound of someone calling his name. So far no one but Chuck and Gabriel dared get anywhere near him. Nobody should be calling his name. Castiel turned to see a familiar face smiling, walking towards him.

"Nick," he greeted. He refused to call him Lucifer like everyone did.

"Glad to see you here!" Nick greeted him with a pat on Castiel's arm. Cas tried not to wince visibly from the touch. "How are you doing?"

"Good," was the only reply Cas could give, as he ducked his head away.

"Good," Nick repeated softly. He noticed Castiel was avoiding his gaze. Nick squeezed Cas' arm as a form of encouragement, but it sent Cas' whole body shuddering with goose bumps.

"Look," Nick continued in a softer tone. "I'm sorry about what happened. If I had known Uriel was up to some sickening plans, I'd have helped you."

Castiel should have found comfort in those words. He knew Nick meant him no harm, but at the presence of another man getting too close, all he could think of was _Dean, Dean, Dean_.

"Thank you," Castiel replied politely.

"I have something for you," Nick said, suddenly turning bashful like a teenager. He looked at the ground where he kicked lightly with one foot. "Think it might cheer you up."

Castiel did not say anything. He just waited for him to continue.

"I remember you said you like tea," Nick said, handing a small sachet to Castiel. It was a bag of Twining's Darjeeling Tea. "This is the best I could find."

Castiel immediately thought of Dean's apple pie and beamed. "This is perfect," he said with a wide smile. Well, it was not perfect _per se_ , but Castiel was well aware of where they were, and this was much better than he could have asked for. "Thank you very much," he said.

Nick returned his smile with a wider grin. "Well, I'm glad you like it, kiddo," he said while ruffling Cas' hair. Castiel tried to duck his head away from the touch, but he couldn't go too far. It wasn't the first time Nick got physically friendly but it made him uncomfortable now. So Castiel tried to think of Dean, and of the next time he brought another pie, even though he doubted there would be a next time. Castiel would make them some tea and prove to Dean how wrong he was to think apple pie goes well only with vanilla ice cream.

"Oh, and if you need hot water," Nick continued speaking in a chirpy tone, "go ask for Gordon in the kitchen, okay? He is expecting you."

Castiel nodded appreciatively. Nick had gone out of his way in having hot water prepared for him. The secret to making good tea required boiling water, not the kind you got from a hot water dispenser.

"And if you need more of those," Nick said, nodding his head to the tea bag in Cas' hand. "Just come get them at my cell, okay? Anytime"

Nick reached out to touch Castiel again. Cas stiffened. He didn't want to be rude to a friend who had been nothing but nice to him, but he was not ready to be touched – any kind of touch – by any other man.

Nick placed his hand on Castiel's shoulder and squeezed it gently. Castiel held his breath until Nick said his goodbye and left.

 _Dean._ He needed to see Dean right now.

~:~:~

It wasn't until after dinner time that he got to see Dean in private. Dean leisurely walked past the open metal gate and Castiel immediately dashed to him until Dean's back hit the wall. He crudely rubbed his left arm where Lucifer had touched against Dean's chest. Dean just wrapped his arms loosely around Cas' waist, amused, unaware of what had been going on.

"Hey, baby," he said smugly, "miss me already?"

"Yes," Castiel could only murmur while he tried to rub his shoulder against Dean's chest too, which turned out to be a little trickier than he had thought. Then he pulled one of Dean's hands to ruffle the top of his head. There, all traces of Lucifer were gone.

"You alright, ang—, babe?" Dean asked. It would sometimes slip his tongue, the word Castiel asked Dean not to say, but he would quickly brush it away, every time. "Why are you clingy all of a sudden?"

"I'm always clingy," was a cheap reply, Castiel knew, but it was all he could offer Dean right now.

"That's true," Dean said, smiling, wrapping his arms a little tighter now that Castiel stopped moving. "But it's not lights out yet."

"Can't wait"

At least that much was true. Castiel leaned in to give Dean a brief kiss before pulling away. He smiled seeing Dean a little flustered. Dean was right. It was not even passed shower time yet. Anyone could walk past their cell at any moment.

"You, uh," Dean stammered. "You've been working?"

"Yes," Castiel replied, tilting his head with a frown. "How did you know?"

Dean smiled tightly. "Well, you smell like you fell into a washing machine."

Castiel threw his head back in a merry laugh. He removed himself from Dean to get ready to go shower.

"You know, Cas," Dean said, pushing himself off the wall and following Cas' steps, "I can get you to work in the library. You'll love it there, and it's less tiring."

That sounded tempting, Castiel had to admit. His typical duties included throwing dirty clothes into towering washing machines, removing them when done and move them to even bigger tumble dryers. Folding was unavoidable, though ironing was kept to the minimum. The work was exhausting, but it was the smell of detergent and dirty clothes that was unbearable.

But he could not depend on Dean forever. He was determined to be able to take care of himself. _This_ was a perfect example. "Thanks, Dean," Castiel replied, "but I'll be fine."

Dean sighed heavily and ran his hand through his spiky hair. "Look, Cas, I'll be honest with you," Dean said, his tone going solemn. "My, uh, _influence_ is not so high in the laundry room. I can't be at peace while you're there."

Smiling, Castiel moved closer and cupped Dean's cheek with one hand. He was flattered at how much Dean cared for him. Dean nuzzled into his hand. "I'll be fine, Dean," he said, assuring. "After all, you put Andy in there with me, didn't you?"

Dean snorted, rubbing his thumb at the back of Cas' hand. "That's kind of the point. There's no one but him."

Castiel leaned in to kiss Dean. He was overwhelmed by how far Dean would go to protect him. He knew there were a few other people besides Andy — not enough for safety, but enough for him not to feel alone. Besides, he had Nick in there, he would be fine.

Pulling away, he leaned his forehead against Dean's, who was breathing hard. "I'm taking a shower," Castiel said in a low voice. "Care to join me?"

Dean threw his head back and groaned. Castiel could only snicker when Dean pushed him away playfully. "Get outta here, you tease."

Castiel couldn't erase the smile on his face as he stopped at the metal gate and turned back to look at Dean, who stood gazing at him with arms crossed; a corner of his lips curled into a suppressed smile. If they weren't inside a prison, this would be Castiel's cue to say 'I love you'. He almost did, the other night, after Dean pampered him with terms of endearment. But his voice decided to walk out on him at that very moment, allowing him to say only the next best thing — that he wasn't a whore. There was no other man he would bare his body and soul to but Dean.

~:~:~

So that was how it went on for the two of them. Day after day they would keep their distance in public. Dean's eyes were still on him, but only to the level that Cas felt safe but not suffocating. Castiel progressed noticeably in his self-defense classes with Gabriel, while Dean helped him train in their cell whenever they found themselves free from work at the same time slot. Night after night, the top bed neglected, as Dean and Cas squeezed themselves onto one small bed.

It was under the cloak of darkness and streaks of artificial light that they shared their life stories outside the cage. Cas would tell Dean of his job and of his ex-wife, Daphne, whom he married more out of obligation than love and of their marriage that lasted a little over a year. He kept tales of his family to a minimum.

Dean, on the other hand, bragged about his family, especially of his little brother whom Dean lovingly called Sammy. He also bragged a lot about Baby, whom Castiel learned with a raised eyebrow, was actually Dean's car, some kind of classic. Cas could only imagine what it looked like and doubted his imagination would be any accurate. Dean hardly talked about his work or his past relationships; other than that they were a series of 'hot fucks and leave before breakfast'.

They would have sex (Castiel refused to call it otherwise). This basically meant Dean brought Cas to orgasm and nothing more. After a while, Castiel was comfortable enough to let Dean blow him. As much as he loved it, his preferred sexual act was frottage, which, if Cas tried hard enough, he could get Dean to come with him, clothes on and all. Good news was, as long as Dean was in bed with him, he didn't have to face those nightmares again. With Dean holding him in his arms, prison might have been the best thing that happened to him after all.

Except his life was never that simple.

~:~:~

He longed to touch Dean.

Castiel's fingers itched every time they made love. He had seen that firm chest and that branded tattoo up close once. He still had glimpses of it on scorching hot afternoons when most inmates tossed away their shirts or when he walked past Dean in the shower area. His fingers would tingle when he thought of trailing them on those tanned muscles. His lips went dry whenever he thought of dragging his tongue over those pretty nipples and making Dean squirm the same way Dean did to him. But Dean had made it very clear from the first day; he did not want Cas' touch. It was the only control he had, and he was very much determined to keep it.

But it wasn't easy. Every time he straddled Dean, he wanted nothing but to shred Dean's top and rake his stubble on that skin. Every time he ground onto Dean, all he wanted to do was strip those pants off and take Dean's erection into his mouth. Castiel longed to know what Dean tasted and smelled like, to see how ungraceful Dean would writhe under his touch and how shamelessly Dean would moan under his tongue.

He never had sex with a guy before, but he didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know where they penetrated. What he did not know, however, was how they did it, all the basics. Since he assumed Dean wouldn't tell him any of that, he turned to Gabriel. He could not exactly tell Gabriel what he needed though. No one could know what happened — or did not happen, in this case. It could jeopardize Dean's reputation. So instead, he asked for something to 'spice up' their love life.

Gabriel was more than happy to oblige. A few days later he was handed a gay porn magazine, something Castiel never knew existed until now. If they were in the outside world, his teacher said, he would pass him some exciting clips, but this was the best he could get now.

What he saw in there confirmed that Gabriel had no shame and no taste. It was the most explicit of explicit sexual scenes Castiel had ever seen. (Not that he had seen many of those, but still.) There was nothing desirable about seeing two naked dudes – sometimes more – in positions that would make your grandmother drop dead at the spot, but he knew sex and he knew Dean. And he knew it would be nothing but wonderful.

But Dean wanted none of this, he told himself firmly as he passed the material back to Gabe. Castiel wanted to burn it, actually, but he had no idea where and how to. He dared not leave it in his cell either, lest Dean should find it and be disgusted with him and never want to touch him ever again.

~:~:~

Cas' body broke in a sweat all over. He clutched tight at Dean's top, wondering if he could rip it apart and blame it on circumstances. Dean was pumping him with his fist so hard Castiel thought Dean's calloused hand must have been blistered. But it was either Dean's hand or Dean's lips, and he had bruised both of those more than enough times for him to forgive himself.

What Castiel wanted was to come untouched. Gabriel's handbook said it was possible, apparently if you got fucked hard enough in the ass. He moved in to kiss Dean, distracting him while he slowly removed Dean's hand from his cock and guided it lower to his balls; then lower towards his backside. He pressed Dean's middle finger along the crack of his butt, fumbling to find that wonder hole. It was not as easy as it seemed, and Dean realized what he was trying to do before he could really do it.

Dean pulled away from the kiss with a frown. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I want you, Dean," Cas replied, a little surprised at how needy he sounded. "Please, Dean," he pleaded, adding a more desperate tone to his voice. "I really want it."

Dean still frowned at him, but when Cas pushed Dean's finger again, it started to move without his guidance. Dean found his entrance in no time, kneading it with the pad of his finger. Castiel parted his lips, letting out anticipating puffs. He felt Dean press a little harder and waited for the moment he would be breached, but it never happened.

Dean pulled his hand away.

"Let's not do this, Cas," he said, agitated.

"Please, Dean," Castiel begged, trying to sound as whiny as possible. "I want this."

Dean pursed his lips shut. His brows tied into a deep knot, suggesting he was debating hard in his head. Castiel nuzzled into Dean's neck, brushing his nose over his skin as he _mewed_ his request, "You said you'll do what I want."

He felt Dean suck in his breath, then he was pushed away by the shoulders. "I'm sorry, Cas," Dean said. "I can't do it."

Castiel felt cracks of ice creep up his body as he stared blankly at Dean's face. He had been hot and bothered but now he went stone cold. Dean couldn't do it. Dean never wanted him. Who was he kidding?

"Okay." The word fell out of his lips like a dead leaf falling from a dying tree.

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled, trying to give him a hug. Castiel dodged him and sat upright.

"Do you still have the cuff?" Castiel asked dryly.

"What? Why?" Dean frowned. His voice went an octave higher.

"I want you to cuff me to the bed. You can at least do that, right? You've done it before."

There was an apparent shock on Dean's face, but Castiel was too detached to care for it.

"Cas, please," Dean pleaded. "I said I'm sorry."

"I _need_ something, Dean!" Castiel retorted. His voice might have been a little louder than their usual whispers could allow.

"Okay, okay," Dean said, running his hand through his hair, frustrated. "Let me just tie you up, okay? Cuff will cut through your skin and I'm not letting that happen."

Cas felt his throat constrict. He didn't understand Dean at all. One minute he didn't want to touch him. A minute later, he wouldn't let him bleed.

Dean returned with a clean pair of cotton pants, tying Castiel up to the head bars. When Dean gently guided him to lie down on the mattress, Castiel was already panting hard. It reminded him of his first few nights here, when Dean had him tied up and abused him. Castiel realized, to his horror, how much everything had changed since then. What used to be non-consensual had turned consensual. Or maybe it was still non-consensual, with the abuser switching from Dean to him, considering the way he had been using Dean to gratify his needs—

"Can I kiss you?"

Dean's tender voice broke Castiel's train of thoughts. He turned to see Dean propped up on one elbow, looking down at him. His expression was soft and he affectionately ran his fingers through Cas' hair.

Castiel closed his eyes, gulping hard because none of this was real. This sweet, unselfish Dean was not real. He felt soft lips gently nibbling his. Castiel breathed in warm air and Dean's own sweaty scent. He wanted to place his hands on those bony cheeks and pull Dean closer. Oh God, he really did.

He sighed blissfully and Dean cupped his cheeks, winding their tongues together. Dean slid on top of Cas once the kiss got more heated. Castiel couldn't move under Dean's weight. Instead he wriggled his limbs wildly as he sucked Dean's tongue; his arms pulled at the knot, wrenching to slip free.

"Dean, move, please." Castiel pulled away harshly, begging because his whole body was on fire, again.

Dean smirked then leaned down to kiss behind his ears, making Cas squirm. "What do you want, dear?" He said teasingly.

"Your mouth," Cas replied at once.

Dean glided down his torso hastily, only stopping to place a quick kiss once on his belly, and then Dean was at it. His tongue pressed on the slit of his swollen head, lapping the salty liquid there. Soon enough Cas' erection was encased in that wet mouth and those stretched lips.

No matter how many nights Dean had done this to him, it was never enough. Castiel writhed violently, pulling at the head bars as Dean sucked, hard, obscene soggy sounds audible amidst his own suppressed moans.

Before Castiel knew it, his wrists had slipped free. He must have unconsciously used the trick learned from Lucifer to unlace them. He was about to grab Dean's sandy hair, when he remembered what happened some nights back.

It was peculiarly similar. Dean had been giving him a heavenly amazing blowjob. Castiel had been so lost with the feelings, he unknowingly locked Dean's head over his cock with all his might as he got closer and closer to his climax; oblivious of how Dean fought to wrench free of his hold. Dean had barely managed to jerk his head away in time, resulting in an unintentional facial. After that night, Castiel discreetly observed, it was always the same — ending with Dean spilling his seed to the ground, so to speak.

Not that Castiel was a pervert who wanted to force his load down an unwilling throat, but it was only deliberately unnatural not to. Even his wife had done it for him on more than one occasion. Pushing those thoughts to the back of his head, Castiel cupped Dean's cheeks with both hands, and pulled him off.

He guided Dean up for a light kiss, careful not to bruise those mushy lips. Dean closed his eyes and softly moaned when Castiel parted his mouth and dragged his tongue along the row of Dean's teeth. Then Dean gripped Castiel's wrists and backed away.

"How did you…" Dean's question was lost as he frowned at those unbound hands.

_Shit._

"It slipped," Castiel replied too fast. He should have given himself time to come up with something. He had forgotten that his hands should be tied, but what Dean was doing to him had been too overpowering. He could not restrain himself.

"I never slip," Dean said firmly. He glanced at Cas with a furrowed brow.

Castiel avoided Dean's gaze. It was glaringly obvious Nick and Dean were archenemies in this place. More reason for Castiel not to let Dean know of their encounters. He definitely could not tell Dean from whom he had learned the trick, and most definitely not the _why._

"I don't know," Castiel added guiltily.

Fortunately, Dean softened at that. He let go of Castiel's wrists and rested his forehead on his. Dean placed his hand on the side of Cas' face, tracing his thumb in circular movements on the cheek. Hot breath ghosted over his parted lips, but Dean did not close the gap.

Castiel shifted his hips upwards, dragging his erection along Dean's bulge until he saw Dean's irises blaze with need. Tossing his head back, Castiel drifted away as Dean devoured the skin on his neck and crushed his groin down in enticing rhythms.

It was twisted, what he and Dean had between them. Desires buried so deep yet surfaced so above that sex wasn't sex and lust wasn't lust. If what they said was true, that love was giving someone the ability to destroy you but trusting them not to; then _this_ must be love.

"Dean," Castiel whimpered, hot breaths coming out in pulsating puffs as they ground their hips against each other. "Come with me, please?"

He never _verbally_ asked Dean to come with him, but if he could not touch Dean with his hands, he may as well touch him with his voice.

"Cas," Dean moaned, reaching down to gingerly hold Castiel's cock in one hand. Cas could feel it burn against Dean's calloused palm.

"Please, Dean" Castiel pleaded one more time, voice urgent as his orgasm continued rising to its inevitable crescendo. "I need you."

_I need you like fish need water and birds need air; like a shroud of darkness needs luminous moonlight. I need you._

Dean bit down his lower lip, forcing back the moans as he spilled in his pants, cum soaking through the thin fabric. Castiel was thrilled. It was another successful night where he didn't have to leave Dean hanging. The man in his arms was dazzling in his euphoric state. Castiel jerked at the radiance, and then came strikingly hard.

~:~:~

"Hey, pretty, a word with you, please?"

Castiel was folding what seemed like endless piles of orange jumpsuits when he felt Nick ruffle his hair and mumble into his ear. He shot a look at Andy who was sitting on the opposite side, before getting up and following him.

"Nick," he greeted once they reached their usual spot behind a row of washing machines.

"How you've been doing?" Nick asked.

"Good," Castiel replied. For the first time in a long time, it wasn't just a polite answer. He was no longer jumpy around other people. Lately he could carry on his days almost normally and it was all thanks to Dean.

Castiel observed Nick was also somewhat giddy. "You look good, too. What's going on?"

"Uriel won't be coming back," Nick replied with a wide smile.

Castiel felt his stomach flip. "Don't tell me he's dead?" he asked, terrified at the idea and what it would mean to Dean.

"Oh, no, far from it," Nick said, shaking his head. "He's recovered and will be sent to a maximum security prison miles away."

Castiel puffed out his cheeks, letting out a heavy sigh. "Well, that's a relief."

"Indeed it is," Nick agreed. He squeezed Castiel's arm with a big grin on his face. "I'm sure pretty soon you'll be able to move out of Dean's cell."

 _Shit._ Castiel had forgotten all about it. "About that," he trailed off, fidgeting where he stood.

"Don't tell me you want to stay," Nick cut him off. He sounded irritated.

Castiel could not reply.

"I hear you, Castiel, every night," his friend hissed. "Your voice changed."

Beet red to his ears, Castiel was extremely embarrassed. They might be able to keep their conversations secret, but it was hardly possible to keep his voice down when Dean did things to him.

"Don't tell me he got to you?" Nick snorted. Seeing Castiel did not reply, he wailed, "Castiel, Dean is a monster!"

Cas wanted to argue. He really did.

"You don't know, do you?" Nick continued to sneer, and Castiel wondered what he could possibly not know about Dean. "That Dean killed the previous shut call."

Castiel gasped. Did he just say Dean killed someone, after he was convicted, behind these bars?

"He never got caught, but it's a known fact. Ask anyone," Nick continued to spit his aversion to Dean. "Why else do you think everyone here is afraid of him?"

It seemed to make sense. Bed manners aside, Dean's face was always set. His worn-out complexion and wrinkles told of fierce battles. It seemed as if Dean was on constant kills and nearly-got-killed with countless monsters in an endless-nightmare land. But it took more than a look to subdue a whole bunch of lawbreakers. He had been enjoying his time with Dean so much he almost forgot Dean was a criminal first.

~:~:~

That night it was difficult being in bed with Dean. Castiel could not shake away the information Nick had bestowed on him. Who was Dean, exactly? What kind of person would have gentle, unselfish sex and expect nothing in return? Or was Dean simply a sicko? Why else would he have sex with someone whose touch he didn't want?

The fact that Dean deliberately avoided swallowing his cum could only mean Dean was disgusted with him, _a filthy man-whore_. After some time, Castiel started to believe that maybe he was – a whore – after all. He could spread his legs for anyone who would take his nightmares away.

Dean seemed antsy tonight, toying with Cas' fingers nervously as they lied facing each other in the darkness. Perhaps he had learned of his conversation with Nick today? But that wasn't likely. He and Nick had exchanged more than one conversation in the laundry room, and Dean had never showed any sign that he knew anything about it.

"Cas," Dean said, bringing Cas' hands up to kiss at the knuckles. His voice was lower than usual. "Let's get out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't known it already, I appreciate all your reviews!


	9. Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> C. S. Lewis wrote: "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to everyone who has read and reviewed the previous chapter. I have to say they were quite unexpected. To quote Castiel himself, "his life was never that simple," and for that I send my sincere apologies to all of you.

Dean couldn't deny he had been thinking about it – about leaving this place. For the year that he had been serving his time here, he never once thought of leaving; never saw the reason to. Sam was better off without him, a fact he hated to admit on his good days. On his bad days, he would be seething, blaming the-ass hats-that-be, who left him to rot in this rat shit's place. But now? Now he couldn't stop his mind from drifting away to a long, winding road appearing before his Baby's windshield, with Cas riding shotgun, his hair a pitiful mess as blowing wind rifled through every strand of it; Dean drumming to his favorite tune on the steering wheel.

There was so much in the world he wanted Cas to see. He wanted to show him their favorite burger joints he and Sam had discovered along the way on their road trips. Dean wanted to share with him the best, the boring and the ugliest moments of his life. What he _did not_ want was keeping their distance in public and keeping their voices low in private. That was no way to live a life.

Above all, he wanted them to make love like they meant it – not fully clothed with typical blowjobs and frottage in a cage that smelled like swine's piss on a mattress that never saw the light of day. Dean toyed with Cas' fingers even more nervously when he thought of what Cas had asked of him last night. He wanted him. _Cas_ wanted him. As Dean's finger moved along the creek of those beautiful buns, Cas' baby blue eyes blazed with desire, and fear, and trust. Dean was flattered at how Cas wanted him to be his first, but _this_ was no way to make love.

"Cas," Dean said, bringing Cas' hands up to kiss at the knuckles. He was beyond nervous. What he was going to say, to Dean, was nothing short of a proposal. No man in his sensible mind would propose if he was not sure the answer would be a yes. And Dean was pretty sure it would be a yes. Who wouldn't want to live a free life outside the cage?

"Let's get out of here," he blurted.

He would never admit it even if he were put on a torturing machine, that he had _dreamed_ of the moment he would propose to a girl (or a boy, as it turned out). Said girl would beam out a yes and throw her arms around his neck and kiss him hard. But, as it happened, Cas looked lost, as if he didn't hear what Dean had said properly.

"What?" Cas asked absent-mindedly. His head tilted feebly to one side and his forehead subtly furrowed.

Dean tried to force a smile on his lips but failed. This was not the reaction he expected. He was thrown off and had no idea how to deal with it. "I said, let's get out of here, Cas," he fumbled for something to say; the rest just followed incoherently. "I can find a way for us to leave this place. We can go and live anywhere we want and start a new life together. We don't have to—"

"I'm not leaving," Cas cut him off, harshly pulling his hands away from Dean's grip, as if Dean was a disgusting bed of worms. Cas sat right up on the bed, frustrated.

Dean instantly sat up after him. "What?" he croaked out for a lack of a more proper word to form. He tried to grab Cas' arm, but Cas jolted out of it and got out of bed, backing away from him.

"I'm not leaving, Dean," he said. His body started to tremble as he curled his arms protectively around himself. "You may leave me if you wish."

"Whoa, Cas, I'm not leaving you." Dean inched closer, cautiously reaching out a hand in an attempt to calm him down. "I'm taking you with me. We're leaving _together_."

Cas shook his head, waving his hand frantically in front of him. "I'm not leaving. That is never an option."

"If you're worried about getting caught," Dean said, gripping Cas by the elbow to steady him, but Cas drew it away.

"I won't tell anyone," Cas said, not letting Dean finish his sentence. He circled around Dean back to bed and started throwing one pillow and one blanket back to the top bunk. "If you no longer wish to stay here, with me, you are free to go."

"I'm not leaving here without you," Dean wailed. He felt like crying. He only wanted them to be happy together, now he was kicked out like a stray dog. How did everything go so terribly wrong?

Cas turned around to look at him sternly in the eyes. "I believe this conversation is over," he said. Then he settled on his bed. Sitting back against the wall, Cas drew his knees up and wrapped his arms tightly around them as if to collect himself. Dean's heart broke as he finally gave up and climbed back up the top bed that had been neglected for God knows how long.

 

~:~:~

Cas dreamed again, causing him to whimper slightly. The pitiful sound being emitted from the bed below woke Dean and captured his attention. Cas made more keening noises and swiftly Dean was on the floor, next to the lower bed. He tentatively slotted his palm with Cas', who took it in an instant. Cas started to toss and let out broken cries, gripping his hand so tight Dean thought his bones might break. When Cas' writhes turned more violent, breaking in sweat as he called out Anna's name, Dean jumped up onto the bed, slid himself down next to the guy and wrapped his arms around him.

"Shh…" Dean shushed the nightmare-teeming guy, kissing the crown of his head and pulling him into a tighter embrace. "I'm here, Cas. I'm here."

Cas whimpered some more and Dean ran consoling strokes along his back, shushing him with soothing nonsense. Slowly Cas stopped making noises and went still in his arms; a tear drop slipped through the corner of his eye, leaving a glimmering trail down his cheek.

He was so fucked up, Dean thought, as he leaned his head back on the pillow, not moving a muscle of his limbs that wrapped tightly around Cas. All this time, he had been thinking – _fantasizing_ – about their lives in the outside world, when the only one that mattered was right here with him, at this very moment, in this very place. Who the fuck cared where they were or what kind of people they were surrounded with, as long as they had each other? Cas was happy. _He_ was happy, and his dick headed-self had to go and ruin everything.

Dean stayed like that until dawn broke, brightening up the sky. That was when he removed himself from the clingy angel. He tugged Cas under the blanket before climbing back to his own bed, saying to himself he would never let go of his _light_ again.

 

~:~:~

"God, Dean, you look like shit." Sam winced as soon as Dean stepped into the visiting room. Dean skipped the usual greeting hug because he might not know if he looked like shit or not, but he certainly felt like one.

"Thanks for the butter, Sammy," Dean muttered under his breath.

"You alright, Dean?" Sam asked and Dean mentally rolled his eyes at Sam's bitch face No. 14 that said he was incessantly (and unnecessarily) worried about him. "Sorry I took a while to get back to you. Jo got caught up in her case and it wasn't until recently that we could go down to California and catch up on Castiel's case."

Dean waved his hand dismissively. Cas hadn't been bothered by his dreams lately and Dean had been so happy he didn't give much thought about anything else.

Seeing no other response, Sam brought out two case files. He flipped one open. "This is Castiel's case file, as you have already seen it," Sam explained. Dean winced upon seeing those horrendous crime photos again. He quickly shifted his gaze to the other file, which Sam flipped open next. "This is the file Jo got for me of Castiel's parents' murder case."

"Holy hell—"

Even a crude person like Dean was lost for words at what he saw. The angles might be different, but the scenes were unmistakably identical. Dean was going to be sick. He heaved dryly. Lucky for him he didn't eat anything for breakfast because he had been in too foul a mood for that.

Sam suddenly flipped both files close, and for once Dean was grateful Sam didn't make fun of him because of it. "I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said softly.

Dean raked his brain for an alternative to the word he did not want to say, but he was not sure where his brain was anymore. In the end, he gave up, staring helplessly at the scrap metal disguised as a table.

"We should stop here," Sam stated.

"No." Dean jerked his head up. "I'm fine," he said wearily. "Just go on with it, please?"

Sam nodded. "So, Jo and I went to California," he continued. "Anna no longer works at the restaurant. Business was good so Hester, her friend who has been helping Anna run the restaurant ever since Castiel left, continued to run it for her. Anna herself moved to stay at her parents' cabin house.

"When we reached there, we were greeted by Missouri and Rufus, an old couple who have been working with the Milton family for a long time. Anna was," Sam paused. "She was in no state to receive any guests. That's what we were told at first. She had lost her juices, Dean, totally zoning out, claiming she hears angels talking and stuff."

"What the fuck?" Dean burst out. "Cas' sister is nuts?"

"She wasn't always like this." Sam glared daggers at him. Dean had the decency to look sheepish. "According to Missouri, Anna and Castiel had been very close since they were young, but their relationship started to strain when Castiel got married and it didn't get any better after the divorce. Their parents' death only tore them further apart, and Anna snapped when she learned of Castiel's crime."

Dean whistled. That was one hell of a dramatic story. "Why don't they put her away or something?" Dean asked.

"Castiel insists that they keep her there," Sam replied with another glare which Dean could only respond with a shrug and a voiceless 'what?' "Hester sends a monthly stipend from the money she makes at the restaurant to cover expenses."

"Guess she keeps the rest," Dean snorted.

"Nobody can use it anyway," Sam chipped in. "Castiel is locked up here. Anna is locked up in her own mind."

Dean's smugness became frail at that. He couldn't imagine how he would take it if he had to be locked up here knowing Sam was off being a mushy potato somewhere out there. Suddenly he understood why Cas wanted his sister to stay at home, and thought himself an idiot.

"Dean," Sam called him in a stern voice, and Dean knew it was time to face the inevitable. "Right now Jo is looking up whether there are similar crimes in other states. You know what it means if the results come up positive, right?"

Dean swallowed the bitter bile in his throat. He felt like throwing up again. Of course he knew what it meant. He just didn't have the guts to admit it.

"It can't be," Dean denied. "There is too much difference in the victimology."

"It's too early to tell," Sam countered, and Dean had to rub his face, hard, sighing wearily because he knew damn well Sam was right.

"If he is really a serial killer—"

"He is not!" Dean snapped, smashing the sorry excuse of a table with a loud bang, causing everyone in the room to jump and crane their necks their way.

Sam raised his palms up in defeat. In no time everyone turned their attention back to their business. Sam didn't say anything further. Dean guessed Sam was waiting for him to cool down, but he couldn't stop smoldering inside.

"I'll talk to him," Dean muttered after a long silence.

"You're going to _talk_ to a se—"

In a split second, Dean was across the table, grabbing Sam's lapel tight in his hands. "I swear to God, Sam," Dean hissed.

"What, Dean?" Sam didn't budge, his gaze remained unwavered by Dean's wrath. "I'm only trying to help you here."

Dean let go of Sam with a huff. Sam didn't even pretend to straighten the creases Dean made on his suit jacket. His posture was set straight when he said, "This man is going to be the death of you, Dean, and I'm not speaking in a figurative sense."

"Shut up."

"You don't see how blind you are, but I do," Sam hissed. "If you think I'll let that man hurt you in anyway—"

Dean abruptly stood up. "Give me my burger. I'm leaving."

"I'm not finished, Dean!" Sam retorted.

But Dean didn't care. He was not going to hear any more hateful words from Sam, who hadn't even met the guy. Sam had no right to judge him.

Dean walked over to grab Sam's messenger bag, successfully dodging Sam's protest and fishing his burger out of it. He tucked it under his shirt and stormed out of the visiting room, not even checking to see if any prison guard was looking.

 

~:~:~

The metal gate was shut after the last schedule of the day. It was at least hours before lights would be out for the night, but Cas already stretched out on his stomach, back to the rest of the room.

Dean sat down on the mattress; the additional weight caused it to shift, but Cas didn't so much as stir.

"Cas," he began, uncertain of what kind of response he would receive. "We need to talk."

The word left an unpalatable taste in his mouth. Dean Winchester did not do talking. But, hell, he would _kill_ his way to get his angel back. What would a little talk matter?

Cas was still. If Dean didn't just see Cas duck into the lower bed, he might have thought he was speaking to a log. Dean let out a quiet sigh. At least Cas didn't kick him away. He would take that as a good sign. "I'm not leaving," Dean said firmly.

Cas still did not move. Dean almost missed the heave in Cas' chest. A shallow rise and fall of his torso that might mean nothing, but Dean could hardly conceal a sigh of relief and curl on the corner of his lips. He carefully placed his hand on the curve of Cas' back, and Cas did not shrink.

"If you want to be here, then I'll stay here with you," he continued. His fingers traced small circles where he touched. He felt Cas' breath hitch. "Until we grow old and wrinkles cover your skin, not mine, because I don't wrinkle." Dean chuckled to himself. "And your bones creak every time you move because you are so _o-old_." He dragged out the last word teasingly.

"We won't last that long, Dean." Cas sat up all of a sudden. His face was still wet with recent tears. Dean cupped Castiel's cheek and wiped them with his thumb.

"Then I'll be with you as long as you live," he said gently; meaning every single word.

Cas nuzzled a side of his face into Dean's palm. Brimming tears ran down his cheek, the moment Cas closed his eyes. Dean gulped down the pain in his chest, knowing full well how badly he had hurt the person he had sworn to protect.

With one free hand, Dean offered the burger he had gotten from Sam this morning. "Truce?" he asked with a sheepish raise of his brow.

Cas opened his eyes and paused for a moment, as if he was deciphering what it was he just saw in Dean's hand. Then he cracked a smile, grabbing the burger and balancing it in his hands.

Dean leaned in to whisper, "The best burger—"

"The best burger in the state, I know," Cas chorused with a timid smile, and, Dean thought, if Cas made him blush any more than he did now, he might just as well put on makeup and start wearing lacy dresses.

Cas unwrapped the paper and neatly refolded it into an easy-to-eat half-wrap. Then he passed the burger back to Dean. "There's only one," he said.

Dean blinked, stunned. "Well, it's for you." He didn't even intend to eat it. It was true Sam may have brought it for him, but since he thought of giving it to Cas, he didn't even crave his favorite food anymore.

"We can share," Cas insisted.

"After you, then," Dean smiled, ruffling Cas' hair. His boyfriend was so cute. And Dean had to blush again because Cas was not a five-year-old to be used the word _cute_ on and most definitely not his boyfriend. Well, not officially anyway.

Cas took a small bite and passed it to Dean who wolfed down a big chunk. _That_ was how you ate burgers, if you asked him.

"Did Sam come to visit you again?" Cas asked after he finished swallowing the food he was chewing.

"Yeah," Dean answered over a mouth full of bread and meat.

"How is he doing?" Cas asked before taking another small bite. He passed the burger again to Dean, who took it and left it at that. At this rate, he would finish it before Cas could really taste anything.

"Good, I guess." Well, Dean didn't actually ask, seeing they were busy fighting over the fact that Cas was a se—or not; definitely not. This reminded Dean what they needed to talk about. Talk, _yuck_. "You didn't have any visitors?" he asked, passing the burger back to Cas.

"Well, my family is in California," was the only thing Cas offered. Castiel took another bite, then stared into space, munching slowly.

Dean was going to push further when he heard footsteps approaching. "Someone's coming," he whispered, nudging Cas to hide the food. Cas quickly hid it under his pillow. Then they resumed acting like they were only talking and nothing more.

"Winchester!"

His name was called while the metal gate was banged loudly with a club. Dean turned to see a prison guard named Britton. He must have been doing his off-routine check. The guy was a total douche.

"Sir," Dean replied as he got up to hide Cas behind his back. Britton liked everyone to call him Sir. Dean did it more as sarcasm.

"Do I smell food in here?" He bellowed, nose crinkling as he sniffed the air.

That bastard must have the olfactory sense of a dog. "Could be, sir," Dean replied smugly. He could hear Cas gasp from behind him. "I just farted."

Cas snorted and Dean barely managed to stop himself from cracking up.

"You think it's funny?" Britton bawled. He hit the metal bar again with his club, causing another annoying clang to pierce through the hall. "Milton!"

"No, Sir." Cas slowly appeared from behind him. Dean could see he tried hard to keep himself straight-faced. "He just farted in my face. There is nothing funny about it, Sir."

 _Oh God._ Dean could hardly contain the air that threatened to breathe nosily out his nose in amusement. Luckily, Britton was not amused and he quickly moved to find his entertainment elsewhere.

Both of them burst out laughing as soon as they heard the douche-guard bang the gate of another cell. Dean's body bent in half as he clenched his stomach tight. He had forgotten that laughing hard did hurt, but he couldn't stop it.

"I farted in your face, huh?" Dean's voice went an octave higher as he tried to wheeze it out before collapsing into another laughing fit.

Cas grinned happily from ear to ear, something Dean never saw before. "Well, your ass was right in front of my face, so, yeah, I guess?"

Dean dissolved in another laugher before it died down to faint chuckles. He clasped a hand on Cas' shoulder and wiped tears from the corners of his eyes with another one. "It's been years since I laughed this hard."

Cas returned a smile that warmed up the whole place, down to his soul. It suddenly felt suffocating, because he was utterly happy. Dean Winchester did not deserve to be happy.

"So, uh," Dean cleared his throat; his face was still flushed hot. "You're going to finish that burger?"

Cas turned to retrieve the burger from under his pillow and, when he turned back, straight away offered it to Dean.

Dean took another big chunk of it because who would have thought laughing hard could drain this much energy. He passed it back to Cas, saying, "I'm done. You can finish it."

Cas nibbled his burger. A feverish pink hue was still apparent on his face. "I thought every guard is Dean-friendly?" he asked between bites.

"Well, you can't make everyone like you." Dean shrugged. "Speaking of, don't do that again, okay?"

"Do what?" Cas asked. His innocent eyes looked up to Dean while he tossed the last bite into his mouth. He rolled the wrapping paper into a ball and threw it in the trash can across the room.

"Defy the authorities. Don't get yourself into trouble. If anyone wrongs you, just let me know. I'll take care of it."

While it was funny, Dean had to admit, it wasn't very wise. It was true not everyone was Dean-friendly, all the more reasons not to step on anyone's toes.

"Cas?" Dean called. Castiel looked somewhat absent after hearing Dean's reply.

Shuddering slightly, Cas cautiously uttered in a low voice, "Can I ask you something?"

Dean gave a nod of consent.

"Is it true that you killed the previous shut call?"

Dean froze. The question hit him like a biting gust of wind, never welcomed in snow-covered terrains. "Who told you that?"

Cas bit his lower lip and lowered his gaze. His fingers fidgeted with the bed sheet, but he did not give any reply.

"Who?" As far as Dean knew, and his knowledge was undeniably _vast_ , the only two people Cas talked to were Chuck and Gabriel. They had no reason to talk to Cas about _that_. The thought of Cas talking to someone else, behind his back, was enough to send Dean mad.

"Someone," Cas mumbled, almost inaudible.

"Which someone?" Dean pressed, agitated.

Cas was silent for a few moments more. Then he heaved a sigh before breathing out, "Nick."

"Nick as in Lucifer?" Dean squawked. He felt a sudden sharp pain drilling in his head. "How did you even talk to the guy?" Not to mention they were on a first-name basis!

"Well, he works in laundry," Cas replied self-consciously.

"Don't listen to him." Dean rolled his eyes. Of all people, Cas must be chitty-chatty with the last person on earth Dean wanted him to converse with. "He is a monster!"

"He said the same thing about you," Cas mumbled again. His eyes looked in every direction except Dean.

"And you believe him?" Dean wailed. His head was now throbbing as he imagined countless conversations Cas and Lucifer had and other venomous lies the Devil had been spitting on him. His skull felt like rupturing at the thought of Cas keeping hundred other _secrets_ that Dean did not know.

"You didn't answer my question," Cas stated pointedly.

Infuriated, Dean groaned, "Did he also tell you that Alastair was a very cruel man?"

Castiel went still. His gaze slowly lifted up to Dean's.

"Guess not," Dean snorted. "Everyone's life is better without him, Cas."

Tilting his head to one side, Cas looked into his eyes. "So you did kill him."

The fuck was it that Cas had to know whether he had killed Alastair or not! It was not something he could blurt out to anyone _even if_ he did it!

The raging flame was making Dean woozy. Dean bent down to hold both of Cas' hands in his. The warmth from them instantly grounded Dean. His rage gradually subsided and his voice softened as he asked, "Would you hate me if I said I did?"

Cas shifted his gaze down at their joined hands, clearly deep in thoughts. "I also killed someone," he uttered admittedly after a long halt. "Doesn't mean it's the right thing to do"

"Of course not," Dean agreed. "That's why we're doing penance here."

Cas lightly nodded.

Dean took the opportunity to continue his intended conversation before he was interrupted by that douche-guard. "You said your parents were murdered, right? Did they catch the murderer?"

Cas shook his head. He kept staring down at Dean's thumb that was now brushing up and down the back of his hand.

"Wanna tell me about it?" Dean asked. He dipped his head lower to catch Cas' gaze, which followed him up as he straightened back.

Cas grabbed Dean's hands a little tighter and Dean could see uncertainty and fear flicker in those ocean-blue eyes. "It's okay, Cas." Dean gave those hands a reassuring squeeze. Cas never gave details on his parents' death before. It was understandable considering the nature of the crime. "I'm here whenever you're ready."

Taking a deep breath, Cas held on to Dean's hands more securely before he began, "Anna and I…" He trailed off again. Dean could see how difficult this was for Cas so Dean let him continue at his own pace.

"Anna and I were driving to our parents' house one evening," Cas blurted. "It was a long drive and it was late at night when my car broke down in the middle of nowhere." Cas paused. He started to fidget where he sat. "It took us hours to get help. When we finally reached our parents', it was already dawn. We walked into the house and they were…" Cas' voice broke at this point. A single tear ran down his face as Cas looked at Dean with an unspoken plea, blue eyes quivering with fright. Dean reached up to wipe his cheek, but it seemed to cause Cas to break down. Cas cried out in a flood of tears, "They wouldn't have died if I had checked my stupid car, Dean!"

Instantly Dean pulled Cas in his arms, shushing him. "You don't know that. You could have died too."

Dean closed his eyes in hope that it would make the horrible images of the crime scene go away. There was no doubt Cas would have died a horrible death had he been there that night, but Cas didn't seem to see it that way. He understood how Cas felt, completely. The weight of failing to save people you loved, he shouldered it with him every single day.

Cas buried his face on Dean's shoulder, his arms holding on to Dean tight. Dean let him cry until it slowed down to quiet sobs. His soaked shirt plastered against his skin, a tangible evidence of guilt draining an anguished soul.

"Most days I wish I was dead," Cas murmured.

Dean felt like someone had just hammered his heart with an ice pick: precise and deadly. But he'd rather have _that_ than a life without Cas.

"Don't say that," Dean mumbled against Cas' temple as he rocked both of them gently back and forth, securing the sobbing mess in his arms.

Cas sniffled. He was now having difficulty breathing because his nose had become stuffy. Dean reached over to grab a tissue paper. Cas sat back to clean his face.

"My life has never been the same since then," he said, throwing the used paper away. His voice was still nasal.

Suddenly it dawned on him. "Is that why you've been having nightmares?" Dean asked.

Cas looked numb with shock. "What?" he breathed with an incredulous frown.

"I said, is that why—"

"How do you know about the nightmares?" Cas cut in sharply.

Dean opened his mouth to speak. Then shut it. It was a mistake – _his_ mistake – that ensued a simple realization. How could he tell Cas that he knew because he heard him cry in distress _every night_?

Cas looked as if his entire existence had crumbled to the ground. His eyes widened in what Dean could not tell if it was fear or pain. "How long have you known this?" He asked in a cracked voice.

Really, how would he answer that question?

"You've known all along, haven't you?" Cas started to shake. He looked as if he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "Oh God," he groaned, pressing his palms on this temples, backing away from the bed. "It all makes sense now."

Dean stepped out of bed cautiously. "Cas?"

Cas looked up to Dean, arms dropped to both sides of him. Another tear drop rolled down his face. "You never wanted me. I'm just a charity case to you, aren't I?"

"What?" Dean cried in disbelief. He'd rather have his chest ripped open than have Cas thinking Dean never wanted him. "What are you saying?"

Cas stomped back to the bed and, to Dean's horror, snatched the 'Muscle Car' book from under the mattress and threw it on the floor. The thick book dropped with a dull thud as Cas glowered at Dean.

Really, how would Dean explain why he had a handbook for a partner of a rape victim?

"Cas," Dean called, his voice not short of begging. He reached out to catch Cas by the arm, but it was harshly pulled away.

"Don't touch me!" Cas bawled.

Dean tried to get hold of Cas again, but before he knew it, he was shoved face-first onto the mattress. His right arm was tightly twisted behind his back, his wrist sprained at a dangerous angle under Cas' weight. Dean grunted in pain. He had taught his student too well.

"I'm so mad I can break your wrist right now," Cas hissed behind Dean's ear. "I will regret it, but that's for another time."

The howl was deafening in his ears when Cas pressed a little further. Then he let Dean go, leaving him nursing his injured wrist. Dean felt tears pricking his eyes and choked it back.

Cas sat on the bed, bracing his back against the wall. He drew his knees up and he leaned against the bars at the foot of the beds, his gaze unseeing out of their cell.

The main lights were out. Dean fumbled for whatever he could find to make a makeshift splint for his wrist. He would wait until tomorrow to have it looked at. Right now he sat himself down the other side of the room, facing the bed. Cas glanced at him briefly then closed his eyes, as if the sight of Dean was too excruciating to bear.

 

~:~:~

Dean opened his eyes at the familiar whimpering sound. For a fleeting moment he didn't register why he was on the floor. Then Cas whimpered again and Dean was promptly on his feet.

Cas was still curled at the foot of the bed. It must be uncomfortable sleeping in a sitting position but he had been too stubborn to move. Dean sighed, thinking back at how so many things had happened the last few days – how so many things had _changed_. A few things he did he was sorry for, more things he regretted. He wondered if he could turn back time to when he and Cas had been happy, to when things unsaid had remained unsaid.

Cas squirmed again and this time Dean did not wait until Cas called out Anna's name. He sat next to the sleeping man and pulled him into his arms. Cas mewled as Dean gently placed Cas' head on his shoulder.

"Shh...I'm here, baby," Dean comforted him.

Cas whined weakly and nestled against Dean. Soon his breathing became slow and heavy. Dean leaned his head on his tousled dark hair, letting tears slide down his face for the first time.

 

~:~:~

Dean noted how everyone stole glances at his wrist, now neatly swathed in bandages. He had visited the infirmary and was relieved to learn that nothing was broken. A few puffs of pain relief spray were helpful, though. Couldn't say it didn't hurt.

But if a glower could kill, Dean was certain he would have been dead, repeatedly, by now. After the alarm went off this morning, Dean tried to approach Cas again, only to be greeted with a death glare. Dean instinctively cradled his wrist, and mentally told himself to back off before he got the other one injured as well.

It was all too familiar, the fuming hatred Cas carried with him everywhere he went. Dean had seen it before, the days after Dean stopped _assaulting_ him – those nights when Cas was plagued by the nightmares. Cas would become aggressive, surrounded by a bubble of resentment, hitting anything he could the first chance he got. Worst of all, there was this sense of aversion towards him, as if Cas couldn't hate anything more than he did Dean. He remembered those times well. He just never thought he would live to see it again.

There had been passing thoughts, back then, that Cas was being subject to mood swings because he was afflicted by those troubled dreams. But now that Cas didn't have them – Dean was very certain of it – why would Cas still anoint him his adversary, Dean had no idea.

Or maybe _that_ was the cause. Now that Cas had learned there was a way to have a peaceful sleep without having to have sex with Dean, Cas became outraged. Perhaps Cas regretted those nights spent in bed with him, _bare_ naked for him, mewing and begging Dean to bring him to his orgasm.

Dean shuddered at the thought. He never once questioned what they had between them, but now he felt _cheap_ and _used_. It made perfect sense now why Cas never so much as touched him, let alone asked him to take off his clothes.

Cas never wanted him. He only used Dean to get rid of his nightmares.

There was now a new feeling inside of Dean – a boiling fury bubbling hot and dense and ready to explode like an active volcano. It certainly didn't help when someone approached him.

"What do you want, Andy?" Dean barked.

"Whoa, calm down, mate." Andy quickly took a step back, hands rising in front of him. "I just have something to tell you. Thought you might want to know"

"What is it?" He felt itchy to break some bones if it appeared to be something he _did not_ want to know.

"Did you know Castiel requested for a cell change?"

"He what?" Dean bawled.

"He requested for a cell—"

Next thing Dean knew, Andy was against the wall, locked by Dean's arm that was only a hairsbreadth away from crushing his windpipe. "If you're fucking messing with me," Dean hissed. The inside of his head was now spinning and his vision hazy.

"No, Dean," Andy croaked. "I wouldn't dare."

Dean ruthlessly let go of him. Andy fell to the floor, coughing. "I saw the document, Dean, on Crowley's desk. He signed it; effective immediately."

Incensed, Dean paced the room. Cas requested for a cell change. He wanted to leave Dean, and all this time Dean had been thinking about spending the rest of his life with him—

Dean stopped and hauled Andy to his feet. "Do you know where he was reassigned to?" When Andy hesitated, Dean snarled, "Which cell?"

Andy stammered, "Lucifer's"

Dean tossed the other inmate to the floor. Cas was fucking leaving to be with Lucifer. Dean couldn't process that. His head was killing him. How could he— How would he—

"Where is he?" Dean growled.

Not getting any answers, Dean shouted into Andy's confused face, "Where the fuck is he!"

"In the kitchen," Andy spluttered. "I just saw him in the kitchen."

 

~:~:~

When Dean reached the kitchen, he saw Cas sitting at the far end of the room. There was no mistaking that body even though Cas had his back to him. Dean was half-way through when someone approached Cas.

Lucifer

The bastard walked right into Cas' personal space and he fucking placed his hand on Cas' back and Cas didn't even flinch! Dean saw red. The two seemed to be talking in a hushed voice. Cas looked up to the standing guy, the hand on his back making steady movement up and down. When Cas turned to his tea (how the hell did he get tea in here?), the Devil tilted his face Dean's way and smirked.

That son of a bitch just smirked at him! Dean was so furious he could rip open a mother cow with his bare hands right now. Then Lucifer leaned down to whisper something into Cas' ear, and sniffed his hair. That foolish dope just let a pervert sniff his hair! How could Cas be so clueless! Unless he let the dick do it on purpose—

Dean yanked Cas from the chair once Lucifer was gone.

"What the hell, Dean?" Cas wailed, wrenching his arm away from Dean's tight grip.

"Yeah, what the hell, Cas?" Dean scoffed. "What the hell did I just see?"

When Cas returned nothing but a glare, Dean continued, "Is that why you won't leave the laundry room, huh? So you can have him grope you by day and me by night?" Dean sneered. Cas was practically shaking now; his hands clenched into fists. Like Dean cared. He wouldn't make the same mistake as getting caught off-guard again. He could dodge Cas' punch, anytime. "You little slut," he spat.

What Dean did not expect was a gush of warm tea streaming down his head.

"Enjoy your tea, Dean," Cas said through gritted teeth. Tepid infusion dripped from Dean's hair, leaving bitter taste on his lips. The cup shattered into tiny pieces on the floor. Cas' entire body trembled as he stormed away.

"Cas!"

 

~:~:~

The metal gate was slid shut and Cas was still nowhere to be seen. Dean hadn't thought _'effective immediately'_ would mean, you know, in effect, like, today. But what the hell, Cas could go groping with his favorite concubine twenty-four seven now, for all Dean cared.

Lights out and Dean curled himself in the lower bed, hugging the blanket because it was warm and it smelled like Cas. He was pathetic as fuck, daydreaming of serving Cas breakfast in bed when all Cas ever wanted was to be locked up here with— Dean couldn't even stand _thinking_ of that name anymore. He never saw it coming, and here he was, thinking he had everything in control. So much for being a shut call.

Dean buried his face in the pillow, hoping to soothe the stinging burn in his eyes. There was no way in hell he was going to cry while Cas was out there _giggling_ somewhere. It was just a stupid, stubborn pain in his chest that refused to dull away. He had endured much worse. He wouldn't fall apart because of a heart wrung out, squashed, bloody and pulpy, and thrown right back into his face.

Dean sniffled. No, it was just the cool air. His body didn't need the warmth beside him. He had a blanket for that – two, actually, now that he was alone in this cell. Sam would be happy to hear that he didn't have a cellmate anymore. Dean would make sure it stayed that way. If they ever _fucking_ put anyone with him again, he would break their nose, and maybe a few fingers – a few limbs if needed be – to guarantee that his new cellmate would be sent to an outside hospital and never returned.

He would not fall for anyone again. Dean Winchester had thrown his squashed heart to the depths of hell and no amount of angels raiding siege there would be able to raise it from perdition. The ghost of him roaming this dungeon would slowly decay and eventually perish, ferrying his damned soul from one misery to the other.

"Dean!"

Dean jumped to his feet. He wasn't hallucinating. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. But why would Cas call his name in a frightened voice?

He leaped to the gate, clutching the metal bars, straining his ears but he didn't hear anything.

"Cas?" Dean hollered.

"Dean, help me! I'm in Lucifer's cage."

Dean rested his forehead on the cold barrier. He might have been broken, but they were so fucking wrong to think he was going to endure any sick joke.

"Of course, you are," Dean said with a snort. "You requested a cell change, remember?"

Cas went silent and Dean gave out a quiet sigh of alleviation, thinking maybe those fuckers would just leave him be now.

"Dean!" Cas shouted back again, his voice completely terrified. "I didn't file the request!"

~:~:~


	10. Tiny Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another night when Dean and Castiel do not share the same cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little heads up, people! What happens in this chapter is brutal by nature (re-read the warnings if you have forgotten them already) but _very_ crucial to the story. I encourage you to read on, if possible. There is no graphic depiction of the actual crime.

"Anna?"

Castiel was walking along familiar dense woods. It was a couple of miles away from their cabin house, where the Milton family hung out every so often when he was a kid. Now he was all grown up, stepping on piles of dry leaves in his too bulky trench coat, insensitive to the weather around him.

"Anna!" he called again. A little girl that couldn't have been older than five, in a white lacy dress, turned his way. She was holding a bunch of flowers in one of her small hands, her red hair brightened against the sunrays, forming a golden halo above her head.

"Castiel!" Anna cried with a wide smile. She hopped across the short distance and handed him the flower. "These are for you," she said.

Castiel took the flowers and inhaled their fresh, earthly scent. He gave Anna a smile that mirrored the warmth in his heart. "They are very pretty. Thank you."

Anna blushed and smiled shyly. Then she reached her two arms up in the air.

Castiel chuckled. It was his cue to crouch down and Anna to climb up his back. She placed her arms around his neck and his arms locked her two legs around his waist. Then he got up and started walking along the small creek. The sound of running water could be heard in the background.

"Can we sing?" Anna asked into his ear.

Castiel chuckled again. His memories of his little sister always made him happy. "Of course, angel; which song you want to sing?"

"Angel!" Anna cried in excitement.

Castiel smiled to the girl on his back, contented. "The angel song, then"

The title was not really 'The Angel Song', but that was what was known between the two of them. It had become _their_ song. Castiel would sing one line, Anna the next.

" _If you don't come with me, I'll tell on you,"_ Castiel started.

" _I'll make your bed. I'll clean and shine your shoes,"_ Anna shouted more than sing, but it really didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was Anna was happy. He knew. His sister was happy when she had a dream yet to be fulfilled.

" _Oh, I wish I was in heaven by your side,"_ Castiel started the refrain, which echoed by Anna's voice singing, _"I wish I was in heaven by your side."_

" _'Cause you're my angel,"_ Castiel sang his favorite line, turning sideways to give a quick kiss on his sister's cheek.

" _And I'm your pride!"_ Anna ended the refrain with a wide smile, kissing him back.

Castiel couldn't hold back the delighted grin on his face as he walked deeper into the woods, careful not to trip over any protruding roots on the ground. His sister had always been his unblemished little angel and his brainy little pride.

"Castiel, look!" Anna screamed, pointing at the air in front of them. Castiel followed the direction of her finger to see a couple of butterflies fluttering around in graceful swirls. Anna always loved butterflies. Before Castiel knew it, Anna slid herself down his back and ran, chasing the tiny creatures.

"Anna, don't run!"

But Anna had already disappeared behind a line of trees. Castiel only got glimpses of her white dress and red hair flowing in the wind.

"Anna!"

He rushed to where Anna had vanished. After he walked a few feet down the slope and circled around a bush, he saw his little sister sat down on the ground, hugging her knees, crying.

"Anna, did you fall?" Castiel asked gently, crouching down next to the girl. Her pretty dress was now smeared with dirt.

"Anna?"

When Anna looked up, however, her face was smothered with tears, red blood seeping all through her white dress. She was in her adult form. "You said you would protect me!" she blubbered. "Why didn't you protect me?"

Castiel flopped back on the ground, shaking as guilt choked him, until he needed to gasp for air. His sister was broken and he failed to glue her pieces back together. Words of apologies swam in his head, but he couldn't get one – not a single one – out.

"Castiel," a little girl's voice called his name. Startled, Cas turned around to see the five-year-old Anna standing next to him, all calm and clean. "You need to wake up. Now!"

~:~:~

Cas tried to wake up but his eyelids were heavy. It took him several blinks and a lot of will-power to finally get them open. The place he saw looked familiar alright, all dim lights and shadows of bars, but there was something different about it.

Castiel jolted out of his daze, but tripped backwards because his hands were tied behind his back, assumingly by a rope. He looked down to see he had no clothes on himself. Clumsily, he stumbled out of bed to the metal gate to confirm that he was not on the first floor, the floor of his cell.

"Dean!" Castiel cried out in a panic. Why was he not in his cell? The tied-up wrists and naked body spelled all kinds of trouble. He struggled to unlace the rope, only to find that it was impossible.

"Now, now," a low voice came up from the dark, sending chills up Castiel's spine. There was no mistaking that devilish voice. "Do you really think I'd teach you to escape a restraint _I_ would use?"

There was still no reply from Dean. Cas' heart dropped to his feet, thinking all kinds of horrible things that could have happened to his cellmate. There was no way things would end up this way if Dean was alright.

"Cas?"

A small sigh of relief escaped his lips, when he heard Dean shout back. "Dean, help me!" Cas cried out immediately. "I'm in Lucifer's cage."

Slowly he started to remember how he got in here. Castiel had been _troubled_ after he and Dean had a heated argument last night. He had been so full of anger and hatred that he decided to seek comfort in a cup of tea. But, as he felt the warmth of the teacup in his palms and inhaled the soothing aroma through his nostrils, his rage had settled down. He was thinking of giving the tea to Dean as a peace offering – he had saved the sachet for Dean after all – when Dean yanked him out of his chair and accused him of being _'a little slut'_.

Castiel shuddered at the thought.

"Of course you are," Dean hollered back. "You requested a cell change, remember?"

Castiel felt his feet go icy cold as fear gripped his heart. He never requested a cell change. There were times when he had thought of it, but he never actually did that. How did Dean get the idea?

The sudden realization made his stomach heave. _Lucifer—_

Blood draining from his being, Castiel carefully turned to the culprit who sported a vicious smirk on his lips, glints of malice shining in those lust-filled eyes. He had seen those looks before – on Uriel and his men.

"Dean!" Cas shouted at the top of his lungs. He was now completely terrified. "I didn't file the request!" He hoped Dean understand how serious the situation was. "Help me!"

"GUARDS!"

Castiel quivered when he heard Dean shouting for help. Dean screaming only meant he was also locked up in his cell. But Dean would certainly be able to help him. He always was.

"Guards! Open the gate! There is a prisoner missing!"

Dean kept shouting for the guards' attention. Castiel waited on wobbly legs, but there was no alarm, no buzz, nothing indicating that Dean was even acknowledged. Dean's voice grew more livid by the seconds, and with it Castiel's hope faltered.

"Guards! Open the God-damned door!"

"Oh, shut up, Dean!" Lucifer cried in annoyance. He now walked over to the metal gate. Castiel took a few cautious steps away from the man. "No one is coming to help you, not tonight anyway." He smirked. "I'll save my voice if I were you."

"Lucifer!" Dean yelled. "If you ever lay a finger on him, I'll fucking kill you!"

As if to prove his point, Lucifer quickly reached out and grabbed Cas by the hair. Castiel hissed at the sudden pain. "I just did. Come and kill me," he dared. "Or you can come get me in the morning, after I finished screwing your boy toy."

"LUCIFER!" Dean snarled.

Just then Castiel realized there was nothing Dean could do but yell. There was no way in hell Castiel would let himself be a victim again. He used the grip on his head as leverage and pushed Lucifer into the wall, kneeing the bastard in his groin.

Lucifer howled as he covered both hands over his crotch, his legs buckled under him. Castiel promptly swung a kick in the head, throwing the man curling on the floor. He was going to kick the life out of the Devil when suddenly he felt woozy.

Before Castiel could gather himself, he was shoved away, followed by a hard fist to his jaw. His face throbbed as he swayed to one side. Cas then got a straight kick in the stomach that sent him thumping the bunk bed and fell to the floor, coughing with pain.

"Damn it, Castiel," Lucifer snapped. He raised a hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his lips. "Don't make me hurt your pretty face."

"Lucifer!" Dean shouted, his voice almost breaking. "What do you want?" Dean must have heard the fight. He almost _begged_ when he said, "Tell me what you want. I'll get it for you, anything. Just don't hurt him."

Lucifer's lips curled up into a sneer. "Don't you think _this_ is what I want, Dean? Some alone time with this naughty angel?"

Arms still straining behind his back, Castiel struggled to get up. Lucifer stomped his feet down on Cas' abdomen, keeping him where he was. The twinges in his repeatedly bruised belly made Castiel grunt.

"Look, my brother's a lawyer." Dean was getting tired of Lucifer's bullshit. "He can get you out of here. A deal, a re-trial, anything you want."

"He didn't seem to get you out of here," Lucifer taunted. His eyes carefully ran over Castiel's lying form on the floor; his foot still crunched Cas' torso. Castiel strived for much needed air and relief while attempting vainly to hide his exposed body parts.

"Just tell me what the fuck you want!" Dean fumed in rage.

"You know what I want, Dean," Lucifer replied, unwaveringly. "You know I can't have it unless you die. I can't kill you, so I thought why I don't just break you then?" he said with a nonchalant shrug.

"Then I'll die!"

"Dean!" Castiel cried just as quickly, frightened. Dean was willing to die, all because Castiel was stupid and careless enough to walk right into this very cell, asking for another cup of tea.

"I'll die," Dean continued, ignoring Castiel's plea. "Then you can have what you want. Just don't hurt him. Please"

"How touching!" Lucifer bewailed in mock admiration, a hand clutching his chest dramatically. "But then what's the fun in it?"

"LUCIFER!"

Lucifer yanked Castiel up and pushed him face-first on the lower bed, exposing his ass in the air. Then he knocked at Cas' knees so now the only leverage Cas had was his sore stomach that was slung over the bedside railing. Castiel fought to wriggle free, but he couldn't, when Lucifer threw his weight on him.

"This is all on you, Castiel," Lucifer hissed behind his ear. "Dean's empire wouldn't have fallen if you hadn't been so _weak_."

Castiel couldn't halt the anguished cry when a finger was force into him. It was all too quickly, too excruciating. Tears brimmed over his eyes. His heart thundered in fright.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"You kept your porcelain well, Dean." Lucifer didn't even budge by Dean's manifestation of wrath. His finger kept scraping Cas' inside, cutting and piercing, while Cas' body fought to discharge the foreign object. Castiel sweated of what he didn't know, if it was fear or pain. "If I hadn't known better, I would have thought I'm fucking a virgin ass."

"GUARDS! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR OR I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU AND YOUR WIFE AND YOUR CHILDREN, AND YOUR FUCKING GRANDCHILDREN!"

Tears were shamelessly streaming down Cas' face. There was little to no lubrication and the pain was beyond unbearable. He bit at the bed sheet as if it could stifle the pain; his legs thrashed about helplessly, unable to hold ground.

"GET HIM OUT OR I'LL FUCKING BURN THIS PLACE DOWN!"

Dean's voice rang in Castiel's head like a broken speaker, indistinct and unintelligible. Soon it resolved to high-pitched reverberation that made his ears bleed. It was no secret what Dean's rage could bring. Those threats Dean made would not come out of his mouth empty. Castiel was terrified of Lucifer, but he was more terrified of Dean now, of whom Dean had become, of who _he_ had made Dean become.

Castiel bit the inside of his mouth. Dean mustn't know what was going on in this cell. His physical pain he could endure. It was the agony that he didn't want Dean to suffer. He couldn't protect his sister, but at least now he could protect Dean.

"You're going to play a silent game, huh?" Lucifer hissed like a poisonous snake. He grabbed and pulled at Cas' hair. Castiel's neck was stretched but he kept his eyes closed and his mouth tightly shut. "Not gonna moan for my cock, are ya?"

A tremor of fear rippled through Cas' skin at the venomous voice. His head was now in a whirl and his mind a blur. When there was another sharp pang down below, everything burst into a blinding flare.

~:~:~

The brightness gradually faded. A silhouette of someone became clearer in front of him. He'd recognize the shape anywhere.

"Dean?" Castiel muttered, confused. Dean was smiling warmly at him. Slowly, Castiel took in the different surroundings. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Your room," Dean replied with a gentle swipe of thumb over Cas' cheekbone. "You said your bed was the most comfortable, right?"

"It was." Castiel nodded absent-mindedly. It wasn't until Dean had him in his arms that Castiel felt an uncomfortable ache in his body. "Dean?" Cas cried in a shaky voice. He didn't quite understand what was going on and he was afraid.

"Shh… I got you, babe," Dean soothed him. His voice was so tender Castiel's tension gradually dispersed. But the pain remained and he clung closer to Dean. "Hold on to me," Dean said.

Castiel shifted so his body was flushed with Dean's. The pain was now throbbing through his body, each pulsation echoing his terror.

"Relax, Cas," Dean whispered as he pampered kisses behind Cas' ear. "Don't fight it."

"Dean," Cas whimpered. He felt as if his body was nothing but a rickety frame that threatened to fall apart with each stinging plunges. It was only Dean's embrace that was keeping him whole. "It hurts. Make it stop."

"Hang in there, baby," Dean mumbled as he trailed kisses down Castiel's collarbone. "It will soon end."

Castiel's hands fumbled through the back of Dean's head as he tried to squeeze Dean tighter to himself. Dean delved his nose and lips into the crook of Cas' neck, licking and tasting the patches of skin Dean knew Cas was most responsive at. Castiel shivered at the flush of pleasure, arching his head back to bare more of his flesh. He needed more of Dean's affectionate touches. No, he needed _all_ of Dean's touches, if they would wash away the pain.

"Give me a kiss?"

Castiel didn't need to be asked twice. He crushed their lips together. Dean was quick to catch it and soon both of them panted and gasped into an open-mouth kiss, tongues and teeth and lips hungrily sucking, clashing and biting each other. Dean's strong arms cradled the back of his shoulder blades, hands messing up his hair. It went all haywire but Castiel never felt more secure.

When they broke for air, however, Dean's face was wet with tears.

"Why are you crying?" Castiel mewed in confusion as he cupped those watery cheeks in his palms. Dean just rested his forehead against his, giving out a sad, pained sigh.

"I love you so much, Cas," Dean breathed. "I love you so much I don't know what do to with it."

Castiel's heart swelled. His eyes misted with tears as those words hit him like gentle waves in a balmy sea.

"I love you, you silly little dork," Dean said with a faint chuckle as tears continued rolling down his cheeks. His lips curled into a small, blessed smile.

"Say it again," Cas purred. He needed to hear it, more of it, endlessly.

"I love you," Dean said, this time firmly. Castiel inhaled the sweetness of it, basking in the fact that Dean _loved_ him.

He had always thought he knew the feeling was mutual, even though the words had been left unspoken. But now that Dean had uttered it properly, Castiel found that the _joy_ of truly knowing it was incomparable. Dean needed him, the same way Castiel had come to learn, over time, how _vital_ Dean was to him. At this very moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of them; all troubles and fears diffused, melted away and re-emerged as brisk, invigorating breezes.

"I love you, too, Dean." The words wafted through Castiel's lips like a sweet-scented sigh. He hoped they drifted far enough to reach Dean's ears.

~:~:~

Castiel was always startled by the blare of the morning alarm, but this time it came to him as nothing more than a faint hum, seemingly from far, far away. He quickly dismissed it and resolved to continue his restful sleep.

His drifting off, however, was interrupted by someone sweeping one arm under his knees, the other under his back, lifting him up. Castiel tried to pry open his heavy-lidded eyes, but he was merely greeted with swarming light.

"Stay with me, Cas."

The tenderness of it gave him a sense of calm. Castiel rested his head on Dean's stiff shoulder, and then relaxed. He knew he was safe in Dean's arms, wherever it was that Dean was carrying him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Castiel and Anna sang was Tiny Words by The Orchids. Thank you for reading!


	11. Ísjaki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calculated Cas, miscalculated Dean, and the rest of the iceberg revealed. Well, some of it, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional warnings:** Sam/Jo, mentions of substance abuse
> 
> I should like to extend my grateful thanks to all of you who left a review for the previous chapter, even if it was to say you were confused. Don't feel bad if you were confused, so was Castiel!

Sam downed another gulp of whiskey as he sat in the small kitchen of his two-story house. It was very uncommon for him to dull his troubles with alcohol. He needed to stay focused, now more than ever due to Dean's inexplicable obsession with his serial-killer cellmate. Castiel had brought a new dimension of fucked-up to the Winchesters' already fucked-up lives.

If asked, Sam would say they were destined to wind up here in this pit from the start. Sam and Dean were raised by Bobby Singer, who happened to be the Head of the Bureau of Investigation for Sioux Falls' District Attorney. The boys possessed the same skills set Bobby had and more. They would have followed in Bobby's footsteps had they not been recruited by a certain Ellen Harvelle, one of Bobby's friends who happened to be an FBI Special Agent in need of 'private service'.

To put it simply, their job was to help law enforcement officers bring down bad people by executing certain missions that _law enforcers_ could not. The job was illegal, obviously, and beyond dangerous, but Sam was convinced that was what Dean needed: saving people. Since they had lost their parents in an arson attack, Dean blamed himself for not being able to save them; no matter that people said otherwise.

Things had been as good as they got. They spent most of their time on the road as their assignments ranged from east to west. There was, however, a small glitch in their latest mission, which ended up with them being arrested by benighted authorities.

Upon learning there was no way they could get away without blowing up the whole operative, Dean, — behind Sam's back, of course — proposed a deal: Sam walked free, with a full ride to a law school of his choice, and Dean would quietly put himself away. Sam protested, naturally, but Dean reasoned it wouldn't do for the two of them to be behind bars. And he'd rather be dead before he allowed his baby brother to set foot in a prison.

So, here Sam was, putting down roots not far from where Dean was being incarcerated, studying for LSAT while working shifts at a hotel to keep himself occupied. Sam and Dean had been inseparable, and, as much as he hated to admit it, a life without Dean was more difficult to handle than he had thought.

He had help, though. Jo, Ellen's daughter, another FBI agent from a different unit, requested a transfer to their state once she learned of Dean's arrangement. Jo had been their childhood friend and Sam's object of affection since he still had pimples. Jo, on the other hand, developed a serious crush on Dean, who saw her as nothing more than a sister. By the time Jo got over it and started realizing that there was another Winchester looking up at her, it was time for them to hit the road.

"Hey, Jo"

Sam opened the door after he heard the bell ring. Jo stood in the doorway with a stack of folders in her arms, bags of Chinese takeaway in her hands, stunningly beautiful as ever.

"Hi, Sam," Jo said, pecking him on the lips before sliding herself through the threshold. "Sorry. I got here as fast as I could."

It was delightful and depressing at the same time, looking at how far they'd come. It was Jo, who took the initiative, of course, seeing Sam settling down but still disoriented, trying to get Dean out when Dean didn't want to.

Sam had managed to find himself a small house with two master bedrooms and one guestroom; because he always hoped Dean would come to his senses and come to live with him sometime soon — that 'soon' had been the passing of one entire year. Jo still rented her own place, but she crashed here more times than not. They tried to keep their pace slow, for Dean's sake, though Sam couldn't quite imagine his future without her.

"'s fine. Let me get that for you." Sam held out his arms to take the folders from Jo. He was about to set them on the coffee table, when Jo stopped him.

"Nuh-uh…Kitchen. I'm starving."

Jo beckoned towards the back of the house and started walking. Sam picked the files up and followed suit, placing them on the island as she started getting their food out of the bag. She passed two boxes to Sam and two to herself, mumbling something similar to 'yours, yours, mine, mine'. Jo didn't waste a sec and stuck chopsticks into the box to get some food out and into her mouth. Sam didn't mind her appetite one bit. If anything, it reminded him of Dean and made things feel more like home.

"For the sake of your dinner, Sam, I'll keep these folders close." Jo said over a mouthful, one hand still holding the food container, the other free hand spreading the folders in a row over the table. She had called earlier and said she needed to show him something a.s.a.p. Sam slowly started eating his food.

"I looked nation-wide and found seven cases that have the same MO," she continued. "Each case is one year apart. I can't believe no-one has ever linked them before." Jo shuddered visibly. "Anyway, that first file is the furthest back I found. That last one, there, is Castiel's case. The fourth one here is Castiel's parents'." She then paused to chomp down on more food.

"So, among Castiel's victims were his parents?" Sam pointed out with an incredulous frown. Who the hell murdered their own parents? Even if they did, it was always the last case, the ultimate goal, not somewhere in the middle.

Jo slightly shook her head. "The victimology of the first six cases is pretty much the same: elderly couples living peacefully alone in their cozy houses, whereas the last one was two healthy men. But here's what's weird." Jo gulped down whatever remained in her mouth. "Each crime scene was cleaned up pretty good. We got only partial, unusable prints. But combining them, I get usable sets, not one, but two. Now get this, none match Castiel's."

Sam almost choked on his noodles. "What? Are you saying we get the wrong guy?"

"There's more," Jo said, raising a finger to stop Sam from saying anything else. "I ran those sets in IAFIS and they match the two vics here." Jo tapped her fingers on the last file.

"Castiel's victims are suspects in these other cases?" Sam raised his voice.

"Looks that way," Jo nodded in the affirmative.

"Okay, okay." Sam put his food down, trying to stop himself from hyperventilating. So, Castiel killed the serial killers using their own M.O, or he was _the_ killer who staged the scenes for those two, or it could be one of the other deductions Sam could not come up with yet. Either way, who would have thought his big brother would have the hots for such a sophisticated killer? It wasn't like Sam could have his say or anything. He had it bad when he had to deceive Ruby to get to her boss and sabotage their evil master plan.

Anyway, this was new. It meant six cold cases closed. If they played it well, they might be able to cut a deal for Castiel. Dean might get his shit together if he knew his favorite cellmate may not be with him as long as he thought. The ideal option would be to get Castiel out altogether; Dean would be at his heels. What would happen once Dean was out was another story. But first Sam needed valid evidence to build a solid case. He had no clue where to start.

"Fancy taking another trip to California?" Jo asked with a knowing glint in her eyes.

Sam let out a relieved snort. He wasn't normally like this, but Dean's imprisonment had thrown both of them off balance. Dean became cold and irritable; Sam lost and despairing. He had no idea how he could set his feet on the ground if it weren't for Jo.

Sam got up from his seat. He scooped Jo up in his arms and placed her small frame on the countertop. Jo cupped his face and leaned down to kiss him. It was slow because she knew how troubled Sam was. She knew how confused Sam was now that Castiel was also in the picture, and with him came a whole lot of baggage. Sam was grateful for the sensual, understanding touch, because honestly that was what he needed right now — that was what he had _always_ needed. He didn't want to run away from all these predicaments, but it was so hard, so hard to stand ground when his world imploded and came raining down on him after Dean was gone.

Giving out an exhausted sigh, Sam rested his forehead on Jo's. "Stay the night, please?" he said.

Jo responded with her signature grin, "Thought you'd never ask"

 

~:~:~

Sam sprang into a sitting position as soon as he heard his cell ring. He was on high alert when it came to phone calls since any of them could be an emergency from Dean, especially this early in the morning.

"Hello," Sam croaked into the phone. His voice was gruff after a night's sleep. Jo stirred and whimpered on the other side of the bed.

"Sam!" A familiar voice shouted down the phone. Sam groaned. He was too groggy to deal with nuisances right now.

"Gabriel, what is it?"

Little did Sam realize that it could be an _actual_ emergency call.

"How fast can you get your ass down here?"

 

~:~:~

"Why hasn't he woken up yet?!" Dean shouted down at the doctor, who was sitting carefully reading and comparing charts at his desk. Dean banged his fists down on the laminated top but the cheap metal desk didn't budge. Dr. Balthazar Sebastian just squinted his eyes at Dean through his glasses.

"Come on, Dean. Don't do this." Gabriel tried to pry Dean away from the desk; hopefully to get Dean to sit and calm down.

"No, I have to do this." Dean jerked his arm away from the shorter man's grip. He had to do this. Cas had been half-conscious since Dean got to him this morning and carried him to the infirmary. And now, even after Dr. Sebastian finished his treatment and administered an IV, Cas remained in a state of slumber.

An hour or so earlier, the moment the morning alarm went off, Dean dashed to Lucifer's cell, only to find the culprit had been gone and Cas lying in a state Dean never wished to see again. No such luck; the image kept replaying itself at the back of his mind. Word going around was that Lucifer had fled and locked himself in solitary. That sly bastard was so fucking wrong to think a lockdown could keep him unharmed. As soon as he knew Castiel was out of danger, Dean wouldn't hesitate to carve and rip the sicko apart, consequences be damned.

Balthazar removed his glasses and placed them on his desk, too collected for Dean's liking. He put down the charts and slightly turned to face Dean. His elbows settled on the armrests as he linked his fingers together. "Castiel had been drugged," he said. "His body did not respond very well to it. You're lucky he's still breathing."

"What do you mean, drugged?" Gabriel cut in while Dean was still gaping in shock. "How can there be drugs in the house?"

"I don't know. You tell me." The doctor replied dauntingly, and it was Dean who needed to gulp because it was his job to keep the place clean. It had been cleaned as far as Dean knew.

"Lately there have been many patients coming in with substance abuse problems," Dr. Sebastian continued. "Not necessarily from your building, of course. Some of them even OD'ed. I tested the drugs in their system but it was difficult to tell what types of drugs they were without access to the drugs themselves. From what I can tell, there seemed to be _variable_ combinations of them. Right now I can only treat whatever symptoms Castiel shows and hope he won't get any worse."

"Hope is not good enough," Dean said through gritted teeth. He failed to keep Cas from harm; he'd be a complete loser if he couldn't keep Cas from hell. "Are you saying you'll be able to help him if you get your hands on the drug?"

Balthazar nodded. Obtaining the drug was definitely not easy, but if anyone could do it, it was Dean. "It's not a guarantee, but certainly better."

Dean swiftly turned on his heels.

"But wait, Dean," the doctor halted him. "It may not be as easy as you think." He paused. On second thought, this task might not be possible at all and even put Dean's life in danger. But now that he had said it, he knew Dean wouldn't back down. Balthazar decided to continue in a low voice. "I've submitted reports on each and every case of these patients, but so far no actions have been taken. It seems like they were all gone with the wind."

Dean could hear Gabriel gasp next to him. So they weren't simply dealing with drugs in prison, but something far fishier. But right now the top priority was Cas' health status. He would fetch the drug first and worry about everything else later.

"My reports are all gone, Dean. Only a handful of people can do that, powerful people. So you'd better be careful." Balthazar warned.

Dean only nodded. He was not afraid. Dean had been dealing with big-name monsters all his life. If anything, it made his fingers itchy and his blood circulate in an energetic buzz.

 

~:~:~

"What are you doing here, Dean? You should be in your cell."

Dean and Gabriel were walking away from the infirmary, figuring out ways to acquire that mysterious drug, when they were confronted. Before Gabriel could even attempt a reply, Dean had swung the scrawny guard to the wall, arm crushing his throat. The unaware officer gasped for air, which did not reach his lungs.

"Where the hell were you? Why didn't you help him?" Dean hissed in the man's face, each syllable added extra force to the obstruction of the airway.

"Dean! Let him go!" Gabriel tried to pull Dean away from the unfortunate prison guard whose bony face had turned pale and blue, but Dean's grip was too solid. "Damn it, Dean!" Gabriel yelled. "Don't kill him! We still need his help!"

Disgruntled, Dean retracted his arm. Garth fell to the floor, choking on his own spate of breath. He was one of the 'Dean-friendly' guards, and the one Dean was closest with. Once his cough died down, Gabriel helped him up while Garth nursed his own neck.

"Honestly I also want to know where you were last night, dude," Gabriel spoke to the man in his arms, still unbalanced on his feet.

Garth replied raggedly, "I was sent home, Dean, last minute. I'm truly sorry about what happened. I would have stayed if I had known what was going to go down."

Dean bit his lips, clearly trying to stop himself from lashing out another harsh remark or hurling someone off the air and tear them to shreds. It was Gabriel who helped him ask, "Where are the rest?"

"Off-duty," Garth replied. "We were suddenly sent away – home or other buildings – all of _us_."

Dean's hands balled into tight fists, nails biting into his skin. He was trembling with rage. It was his fault he underestimated Lucifer, who seemed to have an upper hand on him. First the drug and now the friends in high places, who knew exactly who was on Dean's side and who was not. Something _nobody_ should even have the faintest idea of.

"But even if there were none of us, the other guards would have to help, right?" Gabriel continued dubiously. "There was a prisoner in distress. It was their job to interfere."

Garth gulped down the lump in his throat. He clung closer to Gabriel, something that shouldn't have happened because _he_ was a correctional officer and _they_ were inmates, but he was very afraid of Dean right now, of how Dean would react to what he would have to say.

"They were ordered not to." Garth shivered, seeing no response from Dean as he previously expected. "They were ordered _not_ to help Cas—"

Dean's fist abruptly hit the concrete wall with a loud thud. The two guys flinched at the same time. Red blotches crept up on Dean's pale knuckles, but he clenched his fists even tighter. Dean hated each and every one of them, those fuckers who feared more for their career and turned a blind eye when Cas was being treated like trash. He hated even more the scumbag who ordered Cas' death sentence. There was only one person who could do this: warden Crowley.

Gabriel stopped Dean in time before more fists could be pummeled into the wall. Dean threw the shorter man away. Gabriel staggered to one side and Dean felt like using him as a punch bag, relieving the urge to destroy everyone and everything from the top of the ladder to the bottom of the food chain; the same way they teamed up to destroy Cas and thus their less-than-perfect lives together.

Garth hurriedly blew his whistle, and in seconds two more prison guards were by Dean's side, securing him before he could further hurt anyone. Dean would not go down without a fight, of course. Garth had to knock him out with a stun baton. The two guards then dragged Dean back to his cell while Garth pretended to secure the other inmate. As soon as they went out of sight, Gabriel swiftly turned to his captor.

"Garth, I need your help with something."

 

~:~:~


	12. Search and Destroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas' sister asks him to make a promise; Dean's brother asks him to lie.

It was that place again, the woods not far from their cabin home. Castiel turned around. He narrowed his eyes and strained his ears for any sign of life, but everything was dead quiet. Not even the faintest scent of soil wafted through the gloomy air.

Castiel trod along the sodden path carefully, his leather shoes were tainted with mud in no time. He was not familiar with this area of land and he wondered how far off they had wandered from their usual trail. He quickened his steps, in the hope of reaching recognizable patches or finding his little sister soon.

"Anna!" Castiel called, all the while mentally telling himself to calm down but the fact was that he was extremely worried. After a long walk, he was still trapped among unfamiliar lines of lifeless trees and his sister was nowhere to be found. He probably travelled in circles, but there was no way he could tell.

"Anna!" He called again. After what felt like hours of trekking, Castiel thought the air would change or the sky would get darker or brighter, but none of that happened either. Crushed and confused, he gave up, flopping down on the ground, breaking, in every sense of the word.

With his face buried between his knees, Castiel sensed a tap on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw young Anna, all pretty and impeccable. He quickly pulled his little sister into his arms, shaking as a wave of relief flooded him.

"Oh, Anna," he cried, letting a small teardrop roll down his cheek. "I'm glad you're safe."

Anna stilled. When Castiel realized she didn't reply or hug him back, he let go of her, to check his sister for injuries.

"Are you alright?" he asked, running his hands along her limbs and lacy white dress; turning her around only to see she was spotless. His sister just nodded, then grabbed his hand and started walking.

Castiel scrambled to his feet. Anna kept her pace slow and steady, her brother trailing behind in awkward silent. The air felt heavier without the usual small voice of his chirpy sister. Soon they were hit by a sudden blinding light. When Castiel lowered the arm which he had covered his eyes with, he was faced with the standing building. It was a bright sunny afternoon, as warm and as boisterous as he remembered.

Without hesitation, Anna paced forward and into the house. Castiel hastily ran along, leaving a muddy trail along the wooden porch and hall. But when he saw his little sister stump up the flight of stairs, Castiel's heart set an irregular rhythm. Soon, fear had him remain rooted where he stood at the small landing of the staircase.

Panting for breath, he looked up to see little Anna at the topmost step, beckoning him to follow. Castiel willed his shaking legs to move, and he crawled up the steps to the second floor.

His sister opened the door to her room, stepping aside to let Castiel through. To his half-relief and half-surprise, the bed was made, as if no one had been sleeping on it for quite some time now. He gingerly stepped in. The soles of his shoes tapped upon the wooden floor; the sound resonated across the empty room.

Nothing had changed. They only stayed here on vacations so there were only simple furniture and no fancy decoration: the queen-sized bed he and his sister squeezed in under an ugly brown comforter more nights than not; the heavy wooden desk and wardrobe they used to play hide-and-seek in. Windows were old and creaking as Castiel lifted one of them open. He looked over to see the younger version of himself and his sister playing in the yard. Distant sound of laughter drifted through the thick wooden frame. Castiel wished he was nine again so his life could revolve only around his family and nothing more.

"You always loved me when I was young and innocent," came a familiar voice. Castiel swiftly turned on his heels to see his sister, all grown-up and elegant. What Anna didn't know was that he found her more and more gorgeous with time.

"You know that is not true," Castiel said as he offered his hand with a small smile. Anna took it and stepped beside him by the window sill, locking their arms together. "I've always loved you."

"And you loved Daphne."

Her comment came out more as a sigh while she gazed vacantly out the window. The two children were still playing in the afternoon sun, locks from the girl's red hair flowing pleasantly as they ran in circles. Their faces shone with mirth.

"She was my wife," was always the polite answer he gave.

"And you love Dean."

Castiel was taken aback. _And he loved Dean?_ He didn't even have a polite answer for that. He thought he had known what love was, but since Dean came into his life, he had no idea what love was anymore. What Dean was to him surpassed every definition of the word.

"You're family." Castiel changed the subject. After all, he knew his sister only brought up Daphne, and now Dean, because she was afraid her brother would be taken away from her.

"What about Mom and Dad? Are they family too?"

That remark sent a biting chill through his chest. "Anna," Castiel sighed, holding his sister's hands firmly. He knew soon his sister would break down. She always did every time she broached the subject.

"You let them die!" she screamed, snatching her hands and backing away. Her whole body was shaking as tears ran down her face. "You let _me_ die!"

"Anna, I'm so sorry," Castiel pleaded, reaching out to his sister. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to comfort her once more. "I love you, sister."

"You don't love me," Anna sobbed. "You don't want me now that I'm dirty and damaged and broken beyond repair. You are disgusted with me!"

"That is not true," he said as calm as can be. Anna's back was now against the wall. Castiel carefully stepped closer, slotting his arms around her body and placing her weeping face on his shoulder. "I love you," he said, soothing her in a soft voice. "Even if you're dirty and damaged and broken, I love you and I'll fix you."

His sister slowly quieted down. "But you're going to leave me," she said between faint sniffles. The red-haired angel wrapped her arms around Cas' body and held him tight. "To be with Dean"

Castiel placed a kiss on her hair, the auburn curls he always loved running soft against his fingers. "No one is leaving you," he said, reassuring her. "I'm not leaving you."

"Promise me."

Castiel quietly sighed to the wall. He wanted to be with Dean more than anything. He missed Dean's touches, missed Dean's solid bulk against him, grounding him to the ground, holding him whole. But his sister needed him. He was all she had, and he didn't see it in him to leave her, not in a time like this.

"I promise," he gave his words with a resolve.

~:~:~

Dean gradually took in the familiar surroundings. The room swirled around the prisoner as he turned his head, causing Dean to emit a groan. He tried to keep steady by pressing his palms against his temples. Slowly he started to remember what went down earlier, why he was knocked out and why he and Gabriel needed to figure out ways to acquire some mysterious drugs. Cas' life depended on him.

"Guards!" Dean sprang to his feet, grabbing the metal bars and shouting for attention. He wondered how long he had been out, what time it was and whether Cas was still alive.

"GUARDS!" Dean raised his voice after seeing no sign of anyone coming. He hoped to God it wasn't a recurrence of what had happened last night: that everyone had been ordered not to come to him.

To his relief, the alarm rang and a familiar face came walking down the hall.

"What is it, Winchester?" Garth swung the baton over his shoulder, acting smug as ever. Dean made a mental note to break that frigging baton in half for knocking him out at such a critical moment.

"Let me out," Dean hissed through gritted teeth. Garth, of all people, should know he wasn't supposed to be in his cell right now.

"And I'll fly to the moon," the scrawny guard snickered. He then grabbed Dean by the shirt through the bars and whispered into his ear, "I searched Luci's cell and found nothing. Lunch is in twenty minutes. Make the best use of your time."

He then stepped away from Dean's cell. "Don't call again unless someone dies," Garth growled, pointing the baton menacingly at Dean.

"The next person who's going to die is you!" Dean yelled back, though it was more for show. So, twenty minutes. Thankfully he was unconscious long enough he didn't have to suffer hours of being awake and useless in a cage. Apparently, Gabriel must have asked Garth to search Lucifer's now empty cell for the drug. It was one of the options they had discussed on their way back from the infirmary.

That one failed, which meant Dean would have to carry out the next option. He would have to choke it out of the junkies. Well, those who Dean knew to be ex-junkies, anyway. For once, Dean hoped the house was not as clean as Dean had thought it was. Otherwise, he would have to cross buildings to get the drug. That would be a hassle, considering each minute could be vital for Cas.

Angered with his uselessness, Dean punched the wall one more time, feeling the pain reverberate from his bruised knuckles down to his injured wrist that was still swathed, not so neatly right now, in bandages.

It all went downhill from there; when Dean mentioned the nightmare and Cas was so mad he tried to break Dean's arm, thinking Dean touched him only because he wanted to take advantage of Cas' affliction. Or it could head downhill from when Dean decided to touch him in the first place. Or maybe it zipped downhill from the start: the instant Dean first set eyes on Cas during his orientation.

He remembered that moment well: a smile so soft and eyes so bright that, if he were four years old, he would have run to his mother and told her he had found an angel. _His_ dainty, pristine angel Dean had so preciously cherished. Lucifer ripped that away from him.

And the last word Dean said to him was _'you little slut.'_

Tears slid down Dean's face. Tears from the pain so deep it cut through the pit of his soul. He didn't know why he said those sickening words. Dean didn't share well. It was a known fact. Just to _think_ Cas would want to be with anyone else pained him like no other laceration.

Little did he know that Cas would _be_ with someone else — only not willingly.

"LUCIFER!" Dean howled, the scream dripping with fury so fierce it sent the entire building rattling in fear.

~:~:~

As Dean walked down to the lunch hall, he could feel it: the shift in the air. They hung in there, dull and heavy — the smugness, the embarrassment, and pity, and dubiety, and dread — as fellow inmates avoided meeting his eyes and guards dug their heads away. The dynamics of the place was not the same as they once were. Dean would worry about it, but that was for another time.

He met up with Gabriel and two of his lackeys, who smartly finished their meals while they had a chance. They were about to corner a former addict when someone caught Dean's eyes.

"Andy!" Dean hollered from across the hall.

Andy dropped the whole of his food tray, froze for two seconds when he realized whose voice it was, and set off running for his dear life. Apparently, he did not have the luxury of securing himself in solitary.

"Stop him!" Dean ordered, not to anyone in particular. He was too far away. If he couldn't catch Andy before he reached a prison guard, Dean wouldn't be able to carry out his business.

Someone raised his arm to block Andy's attempt at fleeing, and, just like that, Andy fell on his back to the floor, seeing stars.

Dean yanked the small guy to his feet and started beating the shit out of him. Andy didn't even have the slightest chance to defend himself as fist after fist struck his face and torso. The poor guy was tossed and turned with punches and kicks as if he was a marionette, soon to be reduced into a pulp if Gabriel did not interfere.

"What the hell, Dean?" Gabriel cried as he and Danny tried to lock Dean on both sides while Roy helped the beaten pup to his feet. Andy's face was bruised and swelling and he coughed up blood. "You can't go killing everyone you come across with."

"Like hell I can't," Dean growled, trying to wrench free from Gabriel and his lackey. "If you let that scum go, I'll skin you alive," Dean barked at Roy, who tightened his hold after hearing Dean's threat.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, what has he done to you?" Gabriel cried in annoyance.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," the very terrified Andy spluttered before Dean could answer Gabriel's question. "I didn't know Lucifer was going to hurt him. You have to believe me."

"What?" Gabriel, in his surprise, loosened his grip on Dean. Dean suddenly bolted towards his victim, who swiftly staggered away until his back hit the wall.

"I… I thought Lucifer only wanted to mess with you, telling you Castiel wanted to move out and everything." Andy gabbled, shaking wildly while Dean grabbed his shoulders, his thumbs threatening to press hard onto his trachea, choking him. "I swear, Dean. I like the guy. I would never want to hurt him."

"And you think messing with me was a good idea?" Dean bawled, his fingers crushing down with each syllable, making Andy gagged. Hearing no answer, Dean's voice got louder. "Why did you do it?!"

Andy pulled at Dean's arms in vain. He gasped for air like a dying fish, but it was the sharp pain that frightened him. He was now a sobbing mess, stuttering in tears when Dean finally eased his clutches, "I… I needed my fix, Dean. You know I'm a junkie, and Lucifer promised a batch if I'd just lie to you."

"You son of a bitch!" Dean snarled, pummeling the addict ferociously. "You sold Cas for a batch of drugs?"

"Dean!" Gabriel yelped, hauling Dean from the hapless guy. Dean flipped him away and lashed out at Andy again.

"Get me the drug," Dean ordered.

"What? Dean!" Andy wailed. "They're very expensive!"

Dean snorted. The fucker had the nerve to whine. "I'll give you two minutes," Dean scowled. "Get me the drug or you can kiss your ass goodbye."

~:~:~

"Is he awake yet?" Dean barged into the infirmary and suddenly dashed pass Dr. Sebastian to the private screening room where Castiel was being held. He looked through the door's wide window to see Cas sitting up on the bed, looking away from where Dean was.

He almost flew into the room if he could. Elated, Dean turned the doorknob, pushing the door hard only to be bounced back.

"What the…" he murmured to himself, repeatedly turning the doorknob in disbelief. "Doc, why is the door locked?" Dean started to shout and banged the door loudly. "Cas! You hear me? Are you alright?" Dean banged the door a few more times, shouting for the door to be opened, but Cas fixed his gaze at the far side of the room, as if he didn't hear Dean at all. "Cas!"

"Oh, for Cas' sake, Dean!" Balthazar bellowed. "Shut your cakehole or I'll get security to throw you out. You're only scaring him!"

"Then unlock the fucking door!" Dean bawled.

Gabriel looked between the snarling doctor and prisoner and decided to step in for everyone's best interest. He pried Dean away from the door. "Come on, Dean. Let's hear what Doc has to say first. See if everything's alright with Cas." With that, Dean allowed himself to be dragged and slumped into a chair in front of Dr. Sebastian's desk with a huff.

"Thank you, Gabriel." Balthazar nodded his thanks and sat down behind his desk, breathing deeply to keep himself collected. "Fortunately, Castiel regained consciousness. Initial checks showed no sign of brain or any organ damage. We can safely say he is stabilized now, though I will keep him under observation for another twenty-four hours. After that, I'll start a mandatory psychological evaluation. It is his physical injuries that I'm worried about. He seemed to be in immense pain, but I cannot give him sedatives or pain killers as I had no idea what kind of drugs he had already taken."

Dean straight away passed the drug he had gotten from Andy to the doctor.

"Is this—" The question left unsaid as Balthazar took the pill to examine it.

Dean grumbled sullenly in the affirmative.

"This will be very helpful. I'll get this to the lab." Balthazar, in all his eagerness, promptly turned to leave the room.

"Wait, doc," Dean halted him, and then jerked his head in the direction of the observation room. "Can I see him?"

"Oh, that" The doctor sank back down on his chair, exhaling softly. "Castiel specifically requested not to see you," he cautiously explained. Dean couldn't help but gape. He didn't understand for the life of him why Cas would make such a request. "Give him some time, Dean," Balthazar continued. "It is difficult for him to be near another man right now. Even I had a hard time examining him."

"But I'm not any other man!" Dean lashed.

"All the more intricate," Balthazar mumbled, followed by a whoosh of air through his lips. "I know you're worried about him, but give him room, Dean. He'll come around."

Dean was about to counter when he was interrupted by a prison guard announcing he had a visitor. Dean frowned. He had no idea who could be visiting him today.

"Go see your brother first," Gabriel put in gravely. The unusual solemnity stopped Dean from asking why or how in the world he knew who Dean's visitor was. "I'll talk to Castiel. I can see him, right, Doc?"

Balthazar nodded lightly, lacing his fingers together. "I believe so, yes." When Dean hesitated, he added, "It's all for the better, Dean."

Dean took another glance through the door's window. Cas had already lain down on the bed, his back to the door. Dean couldn't tell if he was sleeping or simply pretending to sleep. Heaving a dejected sigh, Dean reluctantly followed the officer out of the infirmary.

Once Dean went out of sight, Gabriel turned to the physician. "Doc, there's something I need to talk to you about."

~:~:~

Sam made sure the visiting room was empty, except for one of the officers he knew Dean was acquainted with, who stood guard at the door, before asking to see Dean. He chose to sit at the far end of the room to get themselves as much privacy as they could possibly have.

When Gabriel called early this morning, he had asked Sam to see him first. That was how Sam spent the hours before lunch, while Dean was knocked out unconscious in his cell for pulling a little stunt in front of Garth, listening to all the horrible accounts of what had happened the night before. Sam's brain raced a mile a minute at the bunch of new information the short inmate bestowed on him, scurrying to find a way to use this newsflash to Dean's advantage, on top of Castiel's back story Jo had given him last night. Sam wished Jo was here with him at this moment. At least he would have someone to bounce ideas with.

The door to the visiting room opened with a buzz. Sam rose to his impressive height, watching as Dean dragged his legs along what seemed like an excruciating length of the room, and his heart sank. Maybe before devising any devious scheme, he should come up with a plan to restore Dean's humanity before all else.

Dean came close to a walking corpse. No spark of life was visible on his worn-out visage. Sam didn't know if he wanted to cry, or run out and hug his brother, or simply break apart on the spot. From the look of things, Dean could be doing all three at the same time.

When Dean stood face-to-face with him, he dropped his gaze to Sam's shoes, biting his lower lip. Dean lightly bounced on the balls of his heels, saying nothing. There was absolutely no trace of his usual smugness, and Sam was afraid that one right or wrong word from him could cave in the whole of his brother's existence.

"I'm really sorry, Dean." He tried the most neutral words of consolation; though at once he wished he could them take back. It seemed even the simplest form of condolence shook the core of Dean's being, and slowly Dean lowered himself down, onto the floor, succumbing to his own weaknesses.

Sam carefully sat down facing Dean, who hid his face between his knees. He strained to hear if Dean was crying, but he couldn't hear a single sound. Sam prayed he'd hear a whimper or something. Dean had a tendency to mask his emotions, and most of the time that was not healthy at all.

He scooted closer and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean feebly trembled at the touch so Sam rubbed his hand up and down which he hoped was comforting. That was when he heard Dean sniffle.

"He refused to see me," Dean mumbled, lifting his head up. He ran a hand through his face in an attempt, Sam knew, to hide his tears. For a brief moment, Sam didn't understand what Dean was talking about.

"Cas," Dean continued, his voice heavily muffled. "He used to be so clingy, but now he locked me out of his room. He wouldn't even look at me. What am I going to do?"

There was a silent plea for help in Dean's voice, in the way his face was now helplessly wet with tears. Sam felt a lump in his throat as his heart was slashed in half. Very few things could make Dean Winchester cry and the sight shook him. But Sam quickly puffed up. He needed to be strong for his brother. Dean needed him to be strong for him.

"Give him some time, Dean," Sam said, trying to sound as solemn as possible. "He's just gone through a trauma. He needed time."

Dean shook his head. "He must hate me," he sobbed. "I brought this on him."

"It wasn't your fault!" Sam came back sharply. "Lucifer's the culprit here, Dean. You can't blame yourself for everything."

Dean shook his head again, violently this time. "You don't understand. He was raped because of _me!_ Lucifer used him to get to me. And I… I pushed him into that bastard's arms. Oh, God—"

It was obvious Dean was seething with self-loathing. Sam couldn't help pulling him into a hug, feeling himself being torn apart as Dean noiselessly sobbed on his shoulder. "We'll get them, Dean," Sam consoled his brother. "We'll get everyone who did this to Castiel. But I need you to stay focused now. We can't do it without you."

"I will end him, Sam," Dean hissed through gritted teeth, pulling away from Sam's hold. His eyes were swollen red on the lids, but his glare was black with demonic malice. "I will cut his balls off and cook it for everyone to eat. Then I'll make sure every dick in here gets shoved up his ass. The last one will be riding his corpse."

"No, no, Dean, don't do that." Sam was admittedly scared by the overheated threats. He grabbed Dean by the shoulders, steadying him. "The thing with Alastair was a mess. We can't do that again. Focus!" Sam spoke up. "We'll do it better this time, and you and Cas will walk out of here."

Dean snapped out of it. "Who says anything about leaving?" He panicked. "I'm not leaving here. Cas won't leave. I won't leave without him."

"Wait. You asked him?" Sam cried in astonishment. And here he thought he was so smart planning to get Castiel out so Dean would follow. Now, he couldn't let some unknown killer sabotage his brother's chance of escaping.

"I did, and he said he won't leave. I'm not going anywhere, Sam. I can't leave him here."

Dean visibly trembled, as if the thought itself made him nervous, frightened even. Sam wondered how close the two of them _actually_ were. "How much did you tell him?" he asked.

"I told him nothing. I asked him to leave with me. He strongly objected. That was all."

So they were close enough for Dean to jeopardize his own safety, Sam thought, without even discussing with him first. Given Cas hadn't opposed the idea, Dean would have revealed his identity. But Sam guessed that didn't matter now.

"Ask him again," Sam suggested firmly. "After all these things, he may have changed his mind."

Dean just continued shaking his head and pursed his lips. So Sam leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Gabriel told me about the drugs and the guard's order. I say we have a case. I'll ask Ellen to take it up and we investigate like we always do."

"It's frivolous," Dean cut in, again shaking his head and rocking his body back and forth. "It's not gonna work."

"Doesn't matter," Sam reaffirmed. "We've built a case on less. We'll keep digging, bring the bad guys down and you walk. I'll make sure Castiel walks with you, too."

When Dean looked up, Sam couldn't deny seeing a glint of hope in those emerald eyes, even though it quickly deflated. "What if he doesn't want to?"

For what reason would a man not want to leave prison, Sam wondered; unless they were as pig-headed as Dean, of course. Then Sam would have to make sure Castiel wants to walk. There was still this whole serial-killer Cas thing that Sam hadn't told Dean about, but he figured that was not for today. Maybe he would talk about it after his trip to California, when he knew enough to have the upper hand, enough that if Cas held Dean back from walking free, Sam would have some leverage against him.

"Then you change his mind," Sam reiterated. "Lie if you have to."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this will sound like a very lame excuse, but I feel the need to say it nonetheless. My schedule has been very tight these past several weeks (and will continue to be so in the foreseeable future), thus the very slow update. I do apologize and if you're still with me at this point, please know that I really appreciate it. Even though I did try to speed things (in the story) up, it still seems to me like it is getting nowhere, so please bear with me. Another thing you should note is that I did not tag this story as angst, so it won't be forever downhill. The true account of the mysterious(?) Cas' delusional(?) scene will also be revealed in the next chapter. Please stay tune.


	13. Precious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has three visitors, when he asked for none, and they come with dreams, illusions, and visions — or whatnot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional chapter warnings:** Aftermath of a sexual assault, including, but not limited to, anger, depression, dissociation, guilt, shame, numbness, mood swing, nausea. There is also a recap of the event. To be honest, I had no idea what I signed up for when I thought I'd touch the subject. I have no intention of dealing with it lightly, but I also do not want to make the story more depressing than it already is. If you are a survivor, please proceed with caution.

Castiel had his back to the door, when he heard someone fumble with the knob and opened it. He didn't turn around, trusting it wasn't Dean, as he had asked Dr. Sebastian not to let Dean in. He had also heard when Dean threw his tantrum, as well as when an officer came fetching Dean because he had a visitor. Things had been quiet since then. So he supposed Dean was already out of the infirmary.

He did turn, however, when he heard a familiar voice greet him.

"Hey, kiddo!" Gabriel had his signature smile on his face while making a theatrical move towards the patient's bed. Castiel shifted to get up, but suddenly winced when he felt a sharp ache around his hips.

Gabriel rushed to his side. "Easy, kid," he said, gingerly helping Castiel up and getting comfortable. "You don't need to get up."

"I had more than enough sleep," Castiel replied with a grunt at the pain in his ribs as he sat leaning his back on the pillow his teacher had set up for him. If it was any other man, Castiel would tense up being in such close proximity. He knew he did when Dr. Sebastian examined him. But outside of his self-defense class, Gabriel was more like a big sister Castiel never wanted.

"How are you feeling?" the visitor asked.

"Groggy, for one," Cas replied. It was true. He felt weak and dizzy, though he was not sure if it was because he had lain down for too long or if it was because of the drug. "And pain" Definitely pain. It was there with every breath he took.

"I'm not sure if that sexy doctor out there has explained it to you?" Gabriel said, pointing one finger towards the door. "But he didn't want to risk giving you pain killers because he had no idea what kind of drug is already in your system."

Castiel nodded in the affirmative. Dr. Sebastian had generously detailed for him what was going on with his body, which ached all over. Castiel doubted any amount of pain killers would suffice, or that he was worth being given pain killers at all. Maybe _pain_ was what he deserved.

"But worry not, my friend," Gabriel continued with a confident grin that Castiel found surreal. "Your knight in shining armor has gotten hold of the drug and it is being analyzed as we speak."

Castiel blushed at the reference. Dr. Sebastian had also told him how Dean had gone to Lucifer's cell and carried him all the way to the infirmary. In other circumstances, it would be such an embarrassing scene to be carried bridal style in front of all people, though Castiel didn't think he would mind it in private.

He quickly pushed his thoughts away.

"Right now all you have to do is rest and get well soon," Gabriel concluded. If he noticed the flush that appeared on Castiel's face, he didn't mention it. "Your prince is waiting for you," he teased with a smug grin.

_Or maybe he did notice it._

Castiel gazed downward because his cheeks were burning with shame. Dean and he were in different leagues now. He had no right to daydream about any prince in shining anything.

"Do you think you can let Dean see you for a while?" Gabriel's voice went softer at Cas' reaction. "He is just as devastated as you are. I have to follow him around just to make sure Dean doesn't kill anyone." At Cas' gaping, he quickly elaborated. "It's his way of coping with things. I'll be in the room with you if you don't want to be alone with him."

"I can't," Castiel said after a long while. "What you said was right. I'm not worthy of him."

He remembered it as if it were yesterday. Castiel had been so weak he was attacked by Uriel and a few other men, causing Dean to get locked up in solitary for rescuing him. His teacher was so furious he proclaimed Castiel not worthy of his king. He never fathomed the truth of the statement until now.

"Oh, honey, dear," Gabriel cried with a sympathetic look in his honeyed eyes. "You shouldn't take half of what I said seriously. You are in every way fit to be by his side."

"But Lucifer said—"

"Fuck what Lucifer said!" his mentor retorted sharply, incensed. To be honest, Cas wanted to ignore the venomous remark Lucifer hissed into his ear if he could. It just kept replaying itself in the back of his mind like an infuriating broken record.

" _This is all on you, Castiel. Dean's empire wouldn't have fallen if you hadn't been so_ weak _."_

And Castiel couldn't agree more. Even after all the fighting lessons he had been taking, all the hard work his teacher had put him through, he still failed to keep himself from being an easy target, from bringing Dean more complications.

"I'm Dean's weakness, Gabe," Castiel admitted meekly. "He has more to lose if I'm still by his side."

"Oh, Cassie," Gabriel cooed, one hand gently stroking Castiel's hair; the look of empathy glowed in his eyes again. "You don't understand _love_ , do you? Dean will lose himself if he doesn't have you by his side."

Castiel could only shake his head. He did not believe Dean loved him; he believed Dean was better off without him. Cas remembered, no matter how much he wished it were a dream, that when Lucifer threatened to hurt him, Dean didn't hesitate to give up his life. Dean was willing to die — not even spared a moment to think twice — all because of him.

"Look, you're a big boy," Gabriel pressed on. "I'm not gonna lie to you that what happened last night will not shake the balance of power in the house, but we do not yet know in what ways or to what extent that effect is. I'd just like for you to be with us, fight with us, help us restore the stability."

"I can't even protect myself!" Castiel countered. He didn't know how it happened, but he felt a teardrop trail down his cheek. "You must be out of your mind to think I could be of any help to you." _Or Dean,_ but Castiel could not slip that name past his lips now. He felt his throat parch just at the thought of saying it out loud.

Gabriel shook his head wearily. "I know who I teach. You are a natural. You can easily take the Devil out in a fair fight. I guess he was well aware of that fact, too. That must be why he put you under the influence."

But Cas couldn't buy it. Looking down at his wrists, he still saw the white gauze that covered up his blood-seeping, ugly blackish patches that said he couldn't set himself free. The stiffness in his shoulders and the twinges in his stomach screamed _weakness_ that echoed across a deep, dark, despicable void.

"Look at these bruises." The older inmate gently grabbed Cas' palm and lifted it, emphasizing how limp it was. "They're not evidence of your weaknesses. They're proofs of your strength. You have fought well and I'm proud of you."

Castiel kept his head down, but now he saw big drops of water splashing onto his scrub top and they didn't seem to stop. He had fought all he could. Lord knew he had. Cas watched with morbid fascination as the water soaked the fabric into a wider, darker circle. He didn't look up until he slowly registered that someone was calling his name.

"Cassie, Cassie." Even though his vision was blurry, his teacher's face was so close to him. Castiel didn't understand why he had moved so close. "Don't cry. Can I hug you?"

Cas shook his head. He couldn't see the other man's face anymore. "I was a fool," he sighed. Chuck had warned him from the beginning. Dean had tried to keep him away from the one man he mistook for a friend. Gabriel had been equipping him with fistfight techniques, but he had been so full of himself he never heeded those warnings — so stupidly, recklessly naïve.

' _Oh, damn it,'_ Gabriel muttered to himself before pulling the crying mess into his arms. Cas didn't freak out so he guessed it should be okay. He let the poor man sob onto his shoulder, fighting back tears of his own. It was impossible not to break seeing such a delicate little thing falling apart. "None of this is your fault, kiddo," he kept calming him over and over until Castiel pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Cas said, wiping the tears off his face. "I don't know what has gotten into me."

Gabriel shook his head lightly. "Let it all out, kid. You need to get it out of your system. Though I kinda think Dean is more of an expert in the counseling area."

"What do you mean?" Castiel snapped. His voice was stiff and his glare was deadly. Gabriel bit his brainless tongue on the inside. The kid must have thought he meant Cas had been repeatedly assaulted.

"I mean I kinda gave Dean a book," he confessed with a guilty look on his face, "That says how to deal with this kind of situation?"

Castiel groaned as he threw his head backwards. Of course, he remembered the book. He found it one day when he was bored to death and decided to grope around their tiny cell. The one misunderstanding that led to a fight and other things that followed.

Gabe shifted on his feet. He had no idea what to do and wondered if Castiel knew about the book, or that it somehow was the source of the downfall. He watched as Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose, his neck arching back over the pillow as if he was having a terrible migraine.

"You know I don't remember much of what happened." Gabriel startled when Cas suddenly whipped his head back up and spoke. "I remember waking up in Lucifer's cell, naked and vulnerable. I cried for Dean to help, but he couldn't come to me. So I fought. I beat him. I beat Lucifer, but then I felt woozy. Next thing I knew I was bent across the bed, Lucifer's weight on me," he paused, taking a deep breath as he suddenly felt suffocated. "And Dean… Dean was howling in so much pain it felt as if my ears were bleeding." Castiel cringed at the memory.

"And then I dreamed. I dreamed of me and Dean making love in my old apartment—"

"Oh, Castiel," Gabriel cut in. His golden eyes were misty and he held Cas' hand tight. "You weren't dreaming at all. We all heard it."

Castiel was lost. He couldn't understand why his mentor should be the one brimming with tears. "What do you mean you all heard it?"

"You know we heard everything, all of us in the building?" It was more of an assertion than a question as Gabriel tried to control his voice. "I heard Dean scream for help. I heard you fight with Lucifer and what happen after that. Lucifer wasn't quiet at all. He made sure everyone knew what was going on in his cell. Dean's threats weren't getting any less deafening either. Then you stopped making noises." At this point, Gabriel paused to stifle a sniff.

"Lucifer was livid to see you determined not to let any sound come out of you," he continued. "Then suddenly all of Dean's ear-splitting threats came to a stop, too. For a short while, I heard nothing but Lucifer's snarls."

Gabriel paused for a long while, telling himself this would be the last time he remembered all those gruesome details. He knew sexual assault was rife in this setting, but doing it in front of the entire population was purely a mind game. Castiel was sickeningly used to mess with Dean's head and at the same time instill fear in everyone else's. And who knew what the endgame was?

He also had to admit that Cas' determination not to fall victim to Lucifer's scheme was both heroic and heart-wrenching. Not letting out a sound had crumbled the Devil's grand mischievous plan. It took nothing short of divine courage to be able to pull through like Castiel did. Gabriel doubted he would possess the same kind of fortitude had he been under the same situation.

"Then Dean started talking to you," Gabriel started again, only this time his voice was audibly shaking. "He didn't yell like he did earlier, but he spoke in a soft, private voice. I felt as if we were listening in on a very intimate conversation." Gabriel blushed as he recounted the story. "Dean guided you back to your room, saying it was the place you're most comfortable in. Then he started talking sweet nonsense to you, telling you it would soon be over, and how much he loved you."

Castiel had a quick moment to catch the surge of sickness and a sick bag before retching into it. He had stocked up a couple of them since he threw up the first moment lunch touched the inside of his mouth. Gabriel rushed to get him a Kleenex and a cup of water. It was mostly liquid and bile since he did not eat anything all day.

He leaned heavily back on his pillow, exhausted. It was too much to handle and his body must have had its way to protest. All this while, he thought his mind had created the dream as a defense mechanism for him to cope with the trauma. What he thought was not real had turned up otherwise. It was so sweet and warm and comforting and Castiel remembered all of it. How Dean held him while he was breaking. How Dean whispered his confession of love with a face wet with tears. How he told Dean back he loved hi—

"Did I respond?" Cas asked hastily. He needed to know if Dean heard him said he loved Dean too.

Gabriel shook his head, much to Cas' chagrin. "I only heard you whimpered. But Dean seemed to understand. It felt as if Dean could communicate with you through all your little mewling and keening. It broke even the toughest heart in the facility, Cassie. Even Shakespeare couldn't write a love story this tragic."

Castiel leaned his head back again, closing his eyes. So Dean didn't hear him say it. Maybe it was all for the better. This way, it should be easier for Dean to leave him—

Castiel choked for breath as his nostrils were blocked. Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks; he had no idea since when. His brain went numb but his heart was doing all the talking — no, all the _feeling_ — for him. He knew deep down, he never wanted Dean to leave. Instead, he wanted Dean to love him, even when he was flawed and unworthy of it. His heart was screaming, longing to hear Dean say those magical words again. He knew if he could only hear them, _believe_ them, all his afflictions would slide away.

"Castiel, please, you need to let Dean help you." Castiel just noticed Gabriel was speaking when the other inmate gently wiped his tears with another facial tissue. "Can't you see he needs you as much as you need him?"

"But I'm not—"

"Hush now," Gabriel chided lovingly. "I'll be damned before I hear you belittle yourself one more time."

Cas' jaw clicked shut. If he couldn't berate himself, then he had nothing else to say.

"Just do it for me, please?" Gabriel resolved to his last resort. "If it doesn't work out, you let me know, and we'll find another way, okay?"

~:~:~

Cas dreaded it, the moment Dean would open the door and step in. Even though he had agreed to meet Dean, he wasn't so sure how he would take it. What if he was so intrinsically scared of Dean he couldn't even be in the same room with him? What if Dean walks in and is disgusted with what he sees; swiftly turning on his heels and never returns?

But, as it happened, it wasn't half bad — or it was worse; Castiel wasn't certain which one was more accurate. His heart was pounding a mile a minute while Dean walked in self-consciously, and Cas searched through all those erratic rhythms but he couldn't find fear or nervousness or excitement in them. It was as if his physique had its own responses to Dean that even he himself had no access to.

If they were competing on a pageant contest, Castiel was confident Dean could easily beat him in the Shittiest-looking Beauty category, despite what Cas had been through. Earlier, when Dean was yelling outside of his room, the unrestrained voice shook him but also gave him a sense of strange calm, and so Castiel had assumed all was well. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Dean was very conscious of the gaze Cas kept on him as he walked around the foot of the bed to take a seat on the chair next to it. Tilting his head, Cas fixed Dean with a piercing stare as his face gradually moved nearer. Dean gulped nervously, feeling exposed under close scrutiny.

"You've been crying?" Cas asked with a subtle furrow on his forehead. His voice was soft with that little whiny tone that Dean was crazy about. Dean had to clutch the bed railing tight to keep himself from reaching up and pulling the guy into a kiss. Dr. Balthazar had strictly forbidden him from making any kind of physical contact.

"That obvious, huh?" Dean covered his sadness with a smug but failed attempt of a grin, casting his eyes down in embarrassment. He so did not breakdown in front of his little brother just because some adorable angel had refused to let him in the room. The fact that he _was_ in the room now only served to heighten the shame that he had been so worked up about it.

"Why did you cry?"

Cas' whimper was sad and confused. Dean snapped his head up to see. Cas looked as if he had fallen into a trance, his hand mere inches away from cupping Dean's cheek. Dean bit the inside of his mouth and sucked in a breath.

"I saw you cry," Cas said, pulling himself away and leaning back on the headboard. His voice had returned to normal. For a swift moment, Dean scrabbled his brain to find how it was possible that Cas was in the room with him and Sam, thus seeing him cry. "In my dream, you cried and you told me you loved me."

Dean gaped as his heart sped up in his chest. The beating was so loud in his ears it blocked out all other noises. So Cas heard him, everything Dean said to calm him down during his dire catastrophe. Cas did not only hear it; he saw it, _felt_ it.

"Was I dreaming, Dean?"

Because he needed to know; Castiel needed to know that he wasn't dreaming; that it was real, that Dean still loved him when he was awake.

"Are you dreaming now?" Dean asked. His voice was so strained Castiel was afraid he might have asked a wrong question. So he looked for a truthful answer. He focused on the pain in his body, pinpointing it down to the exact spots, but then even pain was evident in his dream. So he took a look around. The room was stuffy with no windows. There were strange equipment and drawers and a white ceiling, and the sense of emptiness pertaining to a patient's room. When he shifted his gaze back down, he was met with a corporeal Dean. He looked real enough so Castiel moved closer, and tentatively placed a hand on Dean's chest.

"No," Castiel replied with resolution as he felt Dean's heart beat against his palm.

"Good," Dean said. Somehow he found something Castiel did amusing and a smile broke across Dean's face. Castiel could only frown at the seemingly sudden change in Dean's mood. "Now listen to me carefully." Dean tapped a finger under his chin and Castiel let Dean tip his head up so their gazes met. Dean's eyes were glittering and Castiel wondered if he ever registered how many shades of green they were.

"I love you, you silly little dork."

Dean stressed each word firmly and Castiel remembered them. He remembered they were the same words Dean said in his dream — no, in his _not-dream_. Suddenly, Dean's face became blurry, as well as all of his surroundings, and Castiel was frightened that all of this had been a dream, after all.

"Holy shit, don't cry!" Dean yelped, hurriedly drawing back to get a Kleenex. Being instructed not to touch him, Dean had no idea what to do. There were _streams_ of tears pouring down both sides of Cas' face. In the end, he just brushed the towel lightly over it, letting the tissue do all the soaking up. Unfortunately, the watery hell of tears welled over as soon as they were dried.

"Fuck, Cas, why do you cry so much?" And maybe Dean started to overly panic. He had a soft spot for tears and even though he knew what kind of a baffling response a trauma could bring, combined that with Cas and he was a lost cause. Dean was freaking out, big time.

After a pile of tissues was tossed on the floor and Cas had quieted down to some extent, Dean mumbled an apology. He meant it to the core of his heart. Cas was an emotional rollercoaster all because of him; a thousand atonements could not even begin to make up for it. With a rueful sigh, Dean reached out a hand to pat the top of Cas' head.

Castiel winced away at once. "Don't touch me!" he growled, furiously drying his face while Dean stiffened where he was.

"I'm dirty," Cas muttered, pulling his knees in and wrapping his arms protectively around himself. He was dirty. Dean had made it very clear that he hated _whores_. Cas had been with too many men he was as far from unsullied as the bottom of an abyss was from the tip of the sky. He did not deserve Dean. He did not deserve Dean's love, whether in dreams or in reality.

"Look at me, Cas!" Dean grabbed at his shoulders and spoke up. Castiel squirmed at the sternness in Dean's voice. He wanted to crawl away but Dean's grip was unyielding against his shaking form, flooding him with a curious sense of security. In next to no time, Castiel found his heart imploring, _'Don't leave me. Don't ever let me go.'_

"I don't care if you're dirty, or damaged, or broken. I love you and I'll fix you."

For a long moment, Castiel just stared into Dean's eyes, lost in their affectionate warmth as he let those words slowly sink in to the depth of his soul. They were the exact words he once said to his sister and he wondered how Dean knew what to say, how Dean knew those were the words _he_ desperately needed to hear.

After a while, Castiel wondered if he was still in a dream and none of this was real at all, that when he woke up, all of this buzz would go away. But when Dean started to shift awkwardly, a hand crept up to rub the back of his neck in all his nervousness with dashes of red on his cheeks, Castiel knew he wasn't dreaming.

He agreed to believe Dean's words from now. No matter how fabricated it sounded, Cas meant every word when he said it to his sister. Even if Dean said it with half of the sincerity he did, it was still truer than a twinkling star above the dark horizon. Castiel knew he could let himself be loved this time — him and all his brokenness.

When Cas reached out a hand, Dean promptly took it — a simple gesture that told Dean his message was reciprocated. Castiel watched, enthralled, as Dean brought his hand up to place a gentle kiss that lasted a few seconds too long on his knuckles. Dean had a wide grin on his face, and freckles that Castiel never knew could shimmer under artificial light.

Dean toyed with Cas' hand as if he wasn't ready to let it go. That was when Cas noticed the wrist swathed in bandages and the nasty wound across Dean's knuckles. His skin was broken, swollen and covered in dry blood.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Castiel asked softly, remembering how Gabriel said he had to stay plastered to Dean to keep him from hitting everything in his line of sight.

Dean kept his mouth shut. He didn't hurt himself. He hurt the wall, and maybe a few other people who may or may not deserve it.

"Did it hurt?" Cas asked in that mewling voice of his again, and Dean had to cover his hand to veil over the bruises. It did hurt, but definitely not as much as he wanted it to. He wanted to feel Cas' pain, share it, take it over if he could. But it didn't matter how many objects he hit, it never hurt enough.

Dean avoided the question with a teasing grin. "Kiss it better?"

Cas just glowered back at him. "You should have it dressed," he said pointedly.

Dean's grin slowly turned into a cunning smile. "Maybe you could help me with that?" He didn't wait for an answer when he let go of Cas' hand in favor of fetching a small first-aid kit. Dean knew where things were kept in this place as he was one who frequented it, both as a patient and as a visitor.

He settled the kit on the bed. When Cas hesitated, he begged playfully, "Please? The nurse is not half as pretty as you are."

Dean grinned, seeing Cas had a rosy tinge on his cheeks. "I'm not pretty," Cas grumbled but he grabbed the kit and started cleaning up Dean's wounds. Dean couldn't stop the happy smile on his face until Cas applied antiseptic cream on the cut a little too roughly on purpose. Dean's face crumpled in discomfort.

Cas feigned innocence, saying, "You seem hurt, Dean. Are you sure nothing is broken?"

Dean huffed in reply but he kept his hand where it was, allowing Cas to cradle his injured wrist even after he had finished with the knuckle wounds. It seemed so normal, when Cas and he attended to each other and bantered easily like this, as if nothing bad had happened — or could ever happen at all, for that matter. Dean knew such an illusion would be short-lived, and so he cherished every moment under Cas' tender caresses.

But Castiel remembered it. As he supported Dean's bandaged wrist with his hands, he remembered he was the one who caused the infliction. Cas traced his fingers along the soft cloth from one end to the other, as if such a delicate touch would make amends. He bent down to kiss the back of Dean's hand, mindful of the injuries.

"Cas," Dean breathed. He enfolded Cas' hand in both of his, feeling its weight and concreteness. "Could you…" Dean paused. He was weighing the words as he was not sure if he should say it, but Dean was slowly losing his mind. It was only so long before he tripped over the edge. "Could we get out of this place, please?" As if adding _please_ would make any difference.

As expected, Cas harshly pulled his hand away. Already Dean missed the warmth of it. "Dean, we've talked about this," Cas reprimanded.

"Yes, we did." Dean heaved a heavy sigh. He ran a hand over his hair. "But after all these things, don't you think you want to change your mind?"

Cas pursed his lips in headstrong defiance. If he could, Dean would suck and lick at those willful lips until they went quivering under his touch. Then he would lavish Cas' body with kisses until the stubborn mule went pliant in his arms. But, as luck would have it, Cas was neither a mule, nor was he changing his mind.

"How many times, Cas?" Dean asked in frustration as he felt heat rising on his face. "How many times do I… do _we_ have to go through this? How many times do I have to be cautious when I touch you, slowly building your trust only to have someone else crush it?"

Dean was beside himself with temper, but Cas just kept staring at a faint stain on the bed sheet as if it was right to give more attention to it than to Dean. "Answer me! How many times do I have to see you hurt while I can do nothing about it?"

Cas did not reply. He just kept staring at that stupid stain and Dean somehow had his hopes up thinking maybe Cas was contemplating changing his mind. That was, until Cas mumbled an "I'm sorry," which meant Cas was not leaving.

Dean turned to kick a metal drawer behind him, causing Castiel to jump at the loud clang. "What—" _What was so important that you were willing to hold on to at the expense of our relationship?_ Dean wanted to ask, but he swallowed the question down. Of course, everything was more important than _them._ Cas did not love him, but it never mattered. Whether Cas loved him back or not, it wasn't like Dean could deny how he felt about Cas, or even attempt to cover it up now that it was out in the open. But at least he hoped Cas would understand.

Castiel bit his lower lip. If he bit it any harder, the skin would tear. He had made a promise — a very important promise to a very important person. He couldn't just give up and leave. Dean had a brother he dearly loved; surely Dean would understand.

"You know what? Screw you!"

Castiel watched as Dean growled, knocked down an innocent chair and stormed away. There was no way Dean would understand.

~:~:~

When the door opened with a creak, Castiel jerked his head up; hoping to see Dean come back after he had cooled down. But, to his dismay, he was met with the small frame of his psychic friend instead.

"Chuck," he greeted.

"Hey, I brought you this," Chuck said as he walked in, holding up a juice box. "I heard you couldn't eat. Figure this might help."

Castiel took it and expressed his gratitude; he knew how costly it was in this place. He had to save it for later, though. It wouldn't do to throw up in front of other people again.

"I can't be long so I'm going to make it quick, okay?" Chuck said, gesturing to an officer standing outside who must have escorted him here. Cas only nodded in reply. "I have a confession to make." Chuck held his breath for a minute longer before blurting, "I'm not a psychic."

Castiel had no idea if he should chuckle or frown at the blunt declaration. He didn't understand what it had to do with anything or why it was so important Chuck had to come tell him now.

"I usually let people think whatever they want," Chuck continued, oblivious to Cas' puzzlement. "Most people think I can read minds or see things, but actually I'm just very observant. I'm very good at reading people."

"Okay…" Cas trailed off. So his inmate friend did not have a supernatural power. Cas felt he should be relieved at the fact, but Chuck was still restless.

"But I do have visions sometimes."

Castiel could only gawk.

"Before you came here," Chuck went on when he got no reply from the other end of the conversation. "I had a vision. There was this soul, very pure, and then I saw a bright light coming from the east. The light warmed up this soul." Chuck illustrated using both of his hands. "But later, this very light leveled this very place"

Chuck had a somewhat crestfallen expression on his face. Castiel was still confused about the whole thing, he wasn't sure what light or what place was _this very place_.

"At first, I thought the soul was Dean's and you were the light. That's the reason we kept you practicing defensive techniques; so that nothing bad would happen to you, nor will the destruction."

Castiel forced down a lump in his throat. This was downright creepy. Whatever it was happening to him was _destined_ to happen in the first place?

Chuck shook his head. "That doesn't matter now. What's done is done." Then he looked up at Castiel with a gravity Cas never saw in the other inmate before. "You have to stop Dean."

"What?" Castiel croaked out.

"I might have been wrong all along," Chuck said, more to himself. "The soul might have been yours and the light was actually Dean's. Makes sense since Dean was from Kansas and you from California. Dean is your east."

Cas' frown had gone from deep to deeper.

"Dean is going to tear this place down," Chuck added in urgent undertones. "You heard his menacing growls. It scared everyone shitless." He shuddered. The thought alone was giving him goose bumps. The last one he heard just before lunch had him made up his mind to spill everything. "Please, Castiel. Only you can stop him."

But Cas was still dumbstruck. First, he did not understand what mess this was all about nor did he believe Dean could do such a thing and, second, he couldn't see why Dean would listen to him.

"You see that officer who brought me here?" Chuck pointed his thumb towards the door. Castiel regarded a burly man who couldn't be much older than himself. "That's officer Hewitt. His boy is nine and his little girl is four. She has curly orange locks and the prettiest smile you'll ever see." The resemblance immediately brought Cas' mind back to his little sister. "He will be the first to go down should a riot break. Do you want his children to be fatherless?"

Castiel licked his lips as he gulped. He had seen it, at least in movies. Inmates were not hesitant to batter an officer the first chance they got, dead or alive. Reluctantly, he said, "I'm not even sure if Dean will talk to me again."

"Dean will come to," Chuck affirmed with certainty. "Please, Castiel. If you can't stop him, I don't know who can."

~:~:~

Dr. Sebastian was getting ready to head back home. After such long hours, he craved nothing more than a warm bath and a sweet-scented glass of red wine, though he thought he might have to upgrade it to a glass of bourbon considering the events of today. It crushed him every time he had to deal with a sexual assault case. Of course, none of it was more devastating than the case of Castiel Milton.

The door to his office clicked open. Balthazar let out a long sigh when he saw who it was.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if I'm working in a penitentiary or a private hospital, seeing you can come and go as you please." Well, that was only half true, but the physician was tired and he felt like making a couple of snappy remarks.

"Doc, please." Balthazar was surprised to see Dean did not come making a scene as usual, but soft-spoken and civil. "You need to let me stay with him."

If he weren't so exhausted, he might actually consider the request, but he was in desperate need of rest and not getting one irritated him. "Why? Because you asked me nicely?"

"No…" Dean trailed off and squirmed, but he still wouldn't give away. "Just… please?"

"Dean," Balthazar groaned. "I really need to get back home." He softened when he saw the dejected look on Dean's face. "Castiel will be safe here. The room is secure and the whole ward is under video surveillance. There are nurses on duty twenty-four seven."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Dean wouldn't back down and Balthazar's interest piqued to know what could possibly make the stony Dean fidget. Dean held back a few moments more before he finally gave in. "Cas has this… recurring nightmare. He needs me to calm him down."

That reminded Balthazar of this morning, when he had observed Castiel toss and turn on his bed, crying out a woman's name. At that time, the doctor thought it was nothing more than an effect of the drug.

"Please, Doc, he's just been through hell. Won't you spare him more horror, when it can be prevented?"

The doctor had to admit, he would not want to be in Dean's shoes. Practically the reason why today's case had been the most heinous he had the misfortune to witness. He fully understood why Dean wanted to be with Castiel tonight, but he found it a little out of line. Nor did he believe that Dean was a requisite factor regarding Castiel's bad dreams.

"I'm sorry," he politely declined.

Before Balthazar knew it, Dean had already dashed to a cabinet, retrieved something from the top drawer and injected himself with it. A few seconds later, Dean fell to the floor, convulsing.

"Dean!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I'm not gonna lie. This chapter was very difficult to write, considering the state Castiel was in. I hope I did it justice. Anyway, I feel like addressing each and every one of you who left a review for the previous chapter, so here it is: darkphoenix2345, MonsterV, aLoggedInReader, SmokingJazz, Pyro42x, AssbuttInTheImpala, ViosShadow, Riceball-1989, Angelpheonixwings14, hunterxangel on FF.net, florenceatss and darkrose_9 on LJ and cider_jelly on AO3. Thank you for your kind words. You all are a gem. I do not deserve you, whether in dreams or in reality.


	14. A Kind of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of this, for just one kiss, wouldn't change it for the world.
> 
> \- The Orchids, "A Kind of Eden"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional chapter warnings:** Aftermath of a sexual assault: hypervigilance, dissociation, emotional instability, guilt, shame, nausea, etc. And a whole lot of blushing, like, A WHOLE LOT.
> 
>  **A/N:** Here, help yourself to some much-needed fluff. Or sort of.

"Dean!"

Castiel sprang into a sitting position when he heard Dr. Balthazar shout Dean's name from outside his door. For a long moment, he heard nothing but a metal drawer being pulled and harshly pushed back. The form of Dr. Sebastian rushing back and forth could be seen through the wide window on the door. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.

Cas was deciding whether he should get off the bed and see for himself what went down, when the doctor and a prison guard came wheeling an unconscious Dean on a bed into the room. The officer deftly cuffed Dean's wrists to both sides of the bed railings.

"Is it okay if I leave him with you here tonight?" Dr. Sebastian turned to speak to Cas, who just froze in place at what he saw. "Please," the doctor continued when he received no response. "It's too much of a hassle to move him elsewhere. I really need a rest."

Castiel snapped his gaze to the doctor, thinking the poor physician looked essentially exhausted. "What happened to him?" he asked.

Balthazar subtly heaved a sigh. "He came to ask me to let him stay with you tonight. I declined. He gave himself an insulin shot." A surprised gasp slipped through Castiel's lips. The doctor quickly added, "He's fine now, though I should say it was quite a stunt he pulled. He could have died."

Balthazar suddenly bit the inside of his mouth as soon as he saw Castiel visibly shudder at the information. "He is fine now," he reaffirmed. "His blood sugar level has returned to normal and I have given him sedatives. He should be sound asleep through the night."

Cas kept his eyes fixed on Dean, didn't see it in himself to turn away. Dean remained stationary, though not at rest. Weariness seemed to outline his Adonis face, even when he was shut off from the world. Fascinated by its mystique, Castiel almost didn't catch what Dr. Sebastian was saying to him.

"Can I leave him with you tonight? As you can see, he is cuffed, so there's no need for you feel intimidated. But if you are not comfortable with it, I'll have to move him to another room."

"No!" Castiel cried abruptly, and then ducked his gaze away in embarrassment at his bluntness. "Please, don't," he mumbled.

"Thank you," Balthazar said with a nod. "You should get some rest, too. I'll come back to check on you and him in the morning."

Once the doctor and the officer were gone, Castiel checked to make sure that he was really alone, that the door was secure and there was no way anyone could enter the room. He tried to bar the door with a chair, as he had seen in movies, only to find the sight ludicrous. He then tried a cabinet. Sadly, one small push of it and the pain in his ribs almost knocked him breathless. In the end, he settled with his own bed, which he wheeled against the door and locked.

He had nowhere to sleep; getting back up his bed, lying next to the door _with a glass window_ was exposed as exposed could be. Not that he could sleep anyway. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt as if someone was there, lurking, ready to jump out and attack him. The room was not dark, only dimmed, but it made him feel vulnerable, nonetheless.

So Castiel watched Dean sleep, something he had never really done. He almost always fell asleep before Dean did, and by the time he woke up, Dean was already there, greeting him with a bright smile and a warm kiss. Cas remembered those moments. He would just snuggle into Dean, wishing they could stay like that a little while longer, and sometimes groaning softly in protest when Dean tried to leave.

Dean looked feathery when he slept, as if he could float anywhere he wanted to. Cas trailed his probing gaze from Dean's tranquil countenance down to his heaving chest. When it reached the end of his arms where Dean was being restrained, Cas choked at how uncomfortable it must feel.

Castiel started fumbling around the room, opening and closing every drawer he could get his hands on. Finally he found what he was looking for, at his own chart by the end of his bed. With a help of the paper clip, Cas nimbly set Dean free from his confinement.

"Dean," he called. When there was no response, Castiel shook him one more time. "Dean, wake up."

Dean did not jump up. He didn't groan in annoyance. He didn't even flinch. "Dean!" Cas started to panic. Dr. Sebastian could be wrong. Dean might be dead. He tentatively placed his forefinger under Dean's nostrils, letting out a sigh of relief when he felt warm breath against his skin.

Cas maneuvered the bed until the side railings were out of the way. He climbed up on it and slotted his body over Dean's, placing his ear above Dean's heart like he used to. A steady _thud-thud-thud_ rhythm echoed across the hollow of Dean's chest. The constant rise and fall of it was like rocking on a hammock in a balmy breeze. Slowly Castiel drifted off to the safety that was Dean's cloud cuckoo land.

~:~:~

When Dean woke up, it was to the feel of something heavy on his body. Instinctively, his hand grabbed the unidentified threat, but promptly loosened his grip when he felt the familiar soft strands of hair. He leisurely threaded his fingers through the locks, lifting his head up to get visual confirmation. Cas was sleeping soundly on his chest, his face bobbed up and down in sync with the rise and fall of his lungs, looking as serene as a gentle sea.

Dean gingerly ran his hand down the side of Cas' face, jagged stubble rough against his calloused palm. Cas stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He startled and sat up straight when he saw that Dean was watching him.

"Damn it, Dean," he cussed. "How many times I got to tell you? It's creepy."

"Says the one who has been sleeping on my chest," Dean quipped with a smirk.

Cas fiddled with the mattress, a pretty rosy tinge blushing his cheeks. "Is it morning already?" he asked, shyly avoiding looking at Dean.

Dean could hardly take his eyes off the lovely sight, casting only a quick glance around the room. "I don't know. Can't tell without natural light," he said with a shrug. "Why don't you get back to sleep while there's still time?" Dean persuaded, already missing the warmth of both of their huddled bodies. "You need to rest."

Cas simply watched while Dean shifted to make room for him, but then Cas turned his head back to his bed that was now parked across the door.

"That bed is too far away, Cas, and it's close to the door," Dean quickly added, almost whining, for fear that Cas would choose to go back to that bed instead of sharing his. When Cas turned back, Dean beckoned him towards the empty space. "Come on. I'll keep my hands to myself," Dean coaxed one more time, folding his hands neatly across his stomach as if to prove his point.

But Cas still didn't move. "Why did you do it?" he asked out of the blue. His voice was stern and rough, but his glare — _that_ deadly glare — never failed to give Dean a chill every time it was directed at him.

"Do what?" Dean carefully asked. He really had no idea what Cas was talking about.

"Make yourself go into shock?" Cas' unexpected words left a foul taste in Dean's mouth. His azure eyes flashed when he repeated, "Why did you do it?"

Dean gulped a bitter lump down his throat. When Cas asked with such a stiff undertone, he demanded an answer. Still, Dean thought maybe he could beat around the bush. "Because there were monsters under my bed and you weren't there to chase them away?" he replied with the most pitiable look he could muster. He didn't see it coming, however, when suddenly Cas pounced at him.

"You stupid idiot!" Cas shouted, his fists pounding Dean's chest. Tears rolled down Cas' face as he groaned in agony, "You could have died!"

Dean quickly wrapped his arms firmly around the shaking mess, stopping the pummeling and, hopefully, the pain. "Cas, Cas," he shushed into the man's ear. "I didn't die, did I?"

"You didn't know that!" Cas sobbed, his voice breaking as he fought, in vain, against Dean's strong hold. "My parents have died on me. And my sister…" Cas gave up his struggles, falling into a heap in Dean's arms. His voice slowly died down to quiet sniffles. "Everyone I love died because of me. You can't do that to me, too. You just can't."

"I'm sorry." Dean's words of apology arose from his conscience. He only wanted to spend the night with Cas, never really stopped to think what his actions might ensue. Even though he was all too familiar with it — the guilt of feeling responsible for someone's death — Dean never really thought he could be the one causing it. And most definitely, he never really thought he could be the one falling into the same category as 'everyone Cas loved'.

"I won't do it again. I promise."

Pulling Cas slightly away, Dean's hands then moved to wipe the tears away with his thumbs. "Come on, now. Don't cry. You cried so much I can't see your pretty eyes anymore." Cas sniffed at Dean's words, clearly fighting back tears. "Let's do something with those puffy eyes of yours."

Forcing a tender smile for Cas, Dean hopped off the bed to fetch an instant cold pack from a cabinet, shaking it to activate while walking back. "Lie down," he said when he saw Cas was sitting still. Cas cautiously lay on his back and closed his eyes, his right hand reaching down to grip the bed railing tight.

The cold seeped through his hot eyelids as soon as Dean carefully placed the ice pack down. Cas inwardly hissed, but easily relaxed when he felt heat gradually evaporate from his swollen eyes. He didn't remember crying this much. The tears he shed in one day might as well be more than that he had been shedding all his life.

Then he felt Dean lie down next to him. The bed was meant for one, so even though Cas had lain as far to the edge as he possibly could, their shoulders still touched. Surprisingly enough, a gush of safe feelings ran through him and Cas soon found himself letting go of the cold metal railing and pressing closer to Dean. His vision still enshrouded in darkness.

"Did you jack the cuffs?" Cas heard Dean ask. He also heard the clank of metal objects, supposedly Dean poking the handcuffs Cas had left on the railing.

Cas nodded, which caused the ice pack to slip downwards. He nudged it back up. "Yes," he said.

"Well, I didn't teach you the trick for this," Dean said with what Cas knew was a half-smile in his voice, followed by another poke to the metal shackle. "But thank you."

A proud smile broke across Castiel's face. It faltered, however, when he heard Dean call his name.

"There's something I think I need to come clean with you," Dean said, and Cas' heart sped up, thinking of a hundred different things Dean would say to reject him, to tell him that Dean didn't need him anymore, that Dean never wanted him in the first place.

"I know about your nightmares."

Cas' frantic thoughts came to a screeching halt. That much he knew. That much Dean knew he knew. What he wondered, though, was whether Dean knew he had been using Dean to stop them.

"I also know how to rid you of them."

Dean forced the rush of sickness down his throat. Of course, he knew how to help relieve Cas of his nightmares. It was a simple logic. Cas had them only on those nights Dean didn't go to bed with him. So Dean took advantage of Cas' affliction, touching Cas when he wasn't entitled to. He was no different than those men who had forced themselves on his cellmate.

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled, surprised to hear how broken his voice was. Before long, Dean felt a trembling hand reached for his, entwining their fingers. Dean held on to it as if it was his lifeline.

When Dean turned to his side, Cas had already removed the cold pack. "You knew I used you," Cas asked. His cerulean eyes stared right back at Dean's. "And you still allowed for it to continue happening?"

"Yes, no!" Dean gave a reply, then changed it the instant he felt Cas pull his hand away. Dean was quick enough to tighten his grip and not let go of it. "That's not what I mean. Let me finish."

Dean got up, covering the back of Cas' hand with his other free hand. He could see Cas looked everywhere but at him. "Do you remember those nights that we fought and you drove me out of your bed?" Dean asked softly, waiting for a reply that never came. So he went on, "Do you remember having nightmares on those nights?"

Cas turned his gaze back at Dean, bewildered. He reluctantly shook his head.

Dean nodded with a sad, tiny smile. "You did. I was there to calm you down before it escalated."

Another simple logic. Cas no longer needed to proposition him to avert those nightmares, a fact Dean'd rather keep to himself and keep exploiting the blue-eyed angel if he could. But he couldn't do that anymore. Cas should have his choice. A beneficial knowledge considering Cas had recently fallen victim to such a horrible sexual crime. And even if it meant Cas chose never to have sex with him again, Dean would man up and accept the fate.

"Is that why you are here, now, so that I don't dream?" Cas asked with a furrow on his forehead, so Dean decided to lighten things up a bit.

"That," he replied with a playful raise of his eyebrows, "And the monsters"

Cas chuckled, his free hand tugging at Dean's top to get Dean to lie back down. A smile still graced his face as he contemplated what wonderful news that was. As long as Dean was with him, he didn't have to face those nightmares again.

Once Dean settled next to him, Cas bent over; the unexpected pang in his chest elicited an audible gasp. He ignored it and whispered into Dean's ear with a grin, "You are my savior."

Dean cleared his throat in an attempt to hide the deep flush on his face. "Lie back," he told Cas, though his voice was still gruff. "You're hurting yourself."

Not so eagerly, Cas complied, lying fully on his back. It was Dean's turn to shift. He rested his head on the pillow, touching his forehead to Cas' left temple, their fingers still interweaving between their bodies. Closing his eyes, breathing deep in relief, Dean asked, "What do you dream of?"

Cas rested his head back against Dean's, contented. "My sister, mostly," he confided. "My parents and their death, but it mostly centers on my sister."

So that was why Cas always called her name in his sleep. Dean's mind drifted back to the crime photos Sam had shown him, to the stories Sam told of Cas' sister. "Why don't you ask her to visit you? You never have a visitor." Dean fished, knowing full well Anna could not make a trip if she wanted to.

"She doesn't know I'm here," Cas replied, and this time Dean could not tell if it was a truth or a lie. "She always looks up to me. I can't let her down."

And Dean hated himself more if he could. He could hardly get Cas to speak about his family, and it had become second nature for Dean to prod for information; something he'd need to break the habit of soon. Some topics were difficult for some people to discuss. In Cas' case it was his family, and understandably so.

Dean placed a soft kiss to Cas' temple, by way of an apology. "Get back to sleep," he whispered.

Dean found himself slowly dozing off, something not usual. But Cas was safe next to him, and the mattress was comfortable, and for once the room didn't smell like a God-forsaken dungeon. The artificial lighting was dimmed in a way that lured its residents to slumber—

"What if I can't have sex with you again?"

Cas' sudden question jolted Dean out of his stupor. He tried to shake the drowsiness away but it still took a moment for the words to sink in and a moment more for Dean to realize what laid beneath them.

"Then I'll go celibate for you," Dean joked lightly, attempting to clear away Cas' worry with an amused chuckle.

But of course Cas would have none of it. "Dean," he said sharply. "I'm serious."

"We'll talk about that later, okay? Now it's time for you to rest," Dean slurred as he went back to shut his eyes and snuggle closer to Cas.

Dean's breathing was warm and steady next to his ear, but Cas couldn't get his mind to rest. Things were so different now. He used to feel safe and loved but now he wasn't even sure how he would react if Dean inched a fraction closer. Or how long this trauma was going to last.

"You should leave me," Cas mumbled. If he couldn't satisfy Dean sexually, then Dean should leave him for someone else.

 _That_ got Dean fully awake. "Cas, look at me." He propped up, forcing Cas to look straight in his eyes. "You know I'm not leaving you just because you can't have sex with me, right?" When Cas did not answer, he repeated, "Right?"

Sometimes Dean's irises were rich green, Cas learned, as they were now. Or was it the mind behind those orbs that was bountiful? Suddenly Cas understood, because what else had Dean been doing but _not_ having sex with him?

"You don't want me," Cas mumbled to himself. All Dean did was give in to Cas' desires; never once asked or demanded anything of him, never so much as fancied a single touch.

Dean's head flopped onto the pillow. His groan was full of frustration high enough to reach the moon. "How can you be so wrong?" he cried. If Cas had known all the things Dean wanted to do to him, he might be the one wanting to leave.

"You do… want me?" Cas asked tentatively, as if he was scared to hear the answer.

"You have no idea."

"Then why didn't you take me?"

Dean sat up, staring at Cas in earnest. "Seriously, Cas, are you sure you want to have this conversation right now?"

"Please"

"Alright, fine," Dean said in defeat. He rubbed his face hard while raking through his brain for the right words, or at least ones that were not too embarrassing. "I, uh, I wanted to do it right," he blurted. "Butt sex is a tricky business, Cas. It could be very unpleasant if not done properly."

They didn't have proper supplies. And was it wrong for him to want Cas' first time to be somewhat memorable? Dean was counting on his escape plan and his dreams of making love on clean sheets in a warmly lit room. He belatedly realized how stupid he had been, now that Lucifer had ruined everything, Cas' first time and all.

"I'm so sorry."

Those words felt like rock salt on Dean's lips. Jagged and stony, a little roll could cut the soft tissue and make it bleed, leaving sickening taste in his mouth. He might not be able to hide the quaver in his voice, but he was fighting hard to hold back tears. When Dean felt Cas take his hand and engulf it, however, a traitorous teardrop rolled down his cheek.

"It's not your fault, Dean," Cas said firmly.

But Dean knew it was. If he hadn't been so selfish, he would have let Cas go when he had the chance. Dean was bad luck. People around him, they get hurt.

"If anything, I should apologize to you."

Dean was staggered. "What for?" he asked with a frown.

"For being weak," Cas murmured, his hands were shaking against Dean's, as was his voice. "And naïve, and for bringing you trouble."

"Cas, stop. Say no more." Dean had to close his eyes and forced down the painful lump in his chest. He covered Cas' hands firmly to stop the quaking, both in Cas' hands and his. "None of this is your fault. You do know that, right?"

"Nor is it yours."

"Alright, fine." Dean caved in. "We have said our apologies. Now that's enough of it. We move on."

And even though both of them were well aware that they would never forgive themselves, they made a deal. Mostly to fool each other that as long as they didn't apologize for it, they no longer thought it was their fault.

Cas gave out his pinky, drawing a snort from Dean and a roll of his eyes. Dean eventually hooked his pinky with Cas', who thrust his thumb forward, to touch with Dean's thumb.

"What are you, five?" Dean grumbled, obviously trying to hide an embarrassing pleased look on his face. Cas just smiled and tugged Dean to lie back down. When Dean did, Cas nestled close to him, stifling the grunts of pain from his body. Once Cas found a position that did not hurt too much, he draped his arm over Dean's torso. Dean laced their fingers together.

"Dean," Cas slurred next to Dean's ear, feeling very comfortable when Dean's fingers traced soothing circles on the back of his hand. "What does it feel like, having sex with another man?"

Dean mulled it over, thinking of different encounters he had had with faceless men, _if_ he remembered it at all. "It feels like sex?" at last, Dean replied with a nonchalant shrug. "That's what you get with casual hook-ups, Cas. All you care about is your orgasm, or sometimes your partner's orgasm too, and how you get there."

Dean gulped down the surge of embarrassment at the words he let past his lips, or maybe at the lifestyle he previously chose for himself. "But having sex with someone you love is entirely different," he went on. "When you are in love with someone, you'll understand what I mean."

' _When_ you are in love with someone,' Cas repeated wistfully in his mind. Dean used a conditional sentence. Either he didn't know Cas was already in love with him, or he didn't want to accept the fact.

"Can I touch you?" Cas asked quietly. He was afraid of the answer, naturally, when the real question he wanted to ask was _'Am I allowed to love you?'_

Dean turned to face him and Cas had to duck his head to avoid Dean's gaze, but Dean lifted his head up by the chin. Cas had no choice but to look into Dean's unwavering eyes.

"Cas, you have to know by now that I'm yours, right? All of me. You are free to do with me anything you please."

Cas felt his cheeks heated in what he knew was a furious flush; his fingers tightened where it interlaced with Dean's. As soon as Dean let go of his chin, he hid his face over Dean's shoulder. A surge of lust coursed through his body, but it dispersed as fast as it hit.

"You didn't swallow."

Cas merely breathed down the crook of Dean's neck, his voice almost inaudible, but Dean wasn't going to push it by asking Cas to repeat the sentence. Dean knew what he heard. He just never thought it would trouble the other man.

"I'm not a big fan of swallowing," Dean bashfully admitted. Since they were doing the open-hearted talk, they might as well see it through the end. "There was this one time a man ejaculated in my mouth, and it wasn't very pleasant, and I kind of avoid it since." Dean felt Cas loosen the death grip of his fingers, so he continued, "But I'll try anything for you. Maybe next time?"

And Cas might have regretted bringing it up. They should have had this conversation ages ago, not now, when nothing longer mattered. There might never be a next time.

"Cas, come on." Dean tugged lightly at Cas' hand when he saw a troubled furrow on the other man's forehead. "What's on your mind?"

"I may have diseases." Incurable diseases, among other things

"You don't know that," Dean retorted just as quick, though deeply he was as scared as Cas was, maybe more. "How about this? I'll ask Dr. Sebastian to give myself a test, too. We should have our results back at about the same time." Dean didn't know why he said that. He hadn't had any sexual relations since being incarcerated, until Cas, but he figured it wouldn't hurt. "And when we are all cleared, we'll start over. Us"

Cas raised his gaze up with a frown. "Why?"

"You know," Dean replied with a blush he denied acknowledging. "We'll start out like any other couple." _Not_ starting with Dean trying to sexually assault Cas the first night he was locked up. "I meet this handsome guy who has the most gorgeous blue eyes and the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I walk up to him and work my irresistible charm."

Cas still held that doubtful frown on his brows, but there was a curious gleam in his eyes. "How is that exactly?" he asked.

"A little sway of my hips," Dean purred with a grin and Cas thought that smile alone could weaken any walking thing in the knees. "And then I say, 'Hey there, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?'"

Cas couldn't help but burst out laughing. "So that's your pick up line?"

Finally Dean could see a full smile on Cas' face. The precious smile was definitely worth embarrassing himself for. "Works every time," he shot back with a wink.

"Not with me"

Dean's confident grin faltered as Cas gave his reply. Well, two things Cas knew were for certain. First, he wasn't gay and second, he didn't care so much for a drink. He would walk away before Dean could even finish his sentence, as charming as he was.

Cas snuggled back into Dean, letting out a small sigh. He was glad he and Dean didn't meet that way.

"I don't want to change a thing."

Dean gasped in shock.

Even after all the wicked things that had happened, all the misfortunes Dean had bestowed on him, Cas still insisted he didn't want to change a thing?

Hearing no reply, Castiel looked up to see the confusion that was still palpable on Dean's face. He gave an amused smile, then shifted to purr next to Dean's ear, "How else would I know how _good_ you are in bed?"

A shiver rippled over Dean. "God, you're killing me!" He groaned, both hands covering his face.

Cas gave a satisfied chuckle. "Close your eyes," he said.

Dean squinted sideways at his bunkmate, but then closed his eyes, his arms resting by his sides. He felt Cas move. Small grunts of pain escaped through those lips and Dean had to sneak a peek to see if Cas was alright.

Cas was in a sitting position and Dean quickly shut his eyes before Cas could catch him. He then startled when Cas slithered his fingers under the hem of his top. As Dean felt light touches grazing, quivering over his toned abs, it was almost impossible to strangle even the softest whimper. The first time Cas _truly_ touched him — flesh against flesh — and Dean didn't want the sound to scare Cas away.

Dean knew what it meant. What he was deprived of in sight, he perceived with his heart. Cas was taking the initiative: a small, first step that could lead to something deep and intimate. But they didn't go any further. Cas moved again. This time, full lips pressed over his, lingering but unmoving. Dean had to hold his breath to quiet down the blood-pumping organ that threatened to jump up and out of his throat.

He exhaled long and hard when Cas finally settled back next to him. Dean realized, much to his delight, that it felt very much like his very first kiss, when he was twelve. Dean was still willing the erratic thumps in his chest away when he heard a steady breathing next to his ear. Cas was fast asleep. Dean turned to peck the side of his face, cradling Cas' hand over his chest. A blissful smile that was foreign to him, adorned his lips.

Maybe Cas was right, after all. Maybe everything went down for good reasons. Dean knew for a fact that if Lucifer didn't happen, it could be years before he could say the L-word, if at all. As much as he was afraid of forming a relationship, it was in the most hideous moment that Dean realized he was more frightened of losing Cas. In a way, Dean felt like his life was on rewind, meaning Dean said 'I do' even before he could make Cas fall in love with him, but now that the finish line was crossed, nothing else along the way mattered. Come what may, Dean was confident he and Cas could fend off any blows, hand in hand.

Soon Dean followed Cas in his sleep. He chose to ignore the fact that, all this time, Cas kept his hips a safe distance away from touching Dean's.

~:~:~

Dean and Cas woke up not to a very pleasant alarm. The usual morning blare that they were familiar with was not in use in the infirmary, but the loud bangs on the door caused by none other than the sexy doctor was in no way any more pleasing to the ears.

Dean was fully awake in an instant, as was his instinct. Cas, on the other hand, grumbled next to him. He was still drowsy with sleep, palms crunching his eyelids in annoyance, his hair in the messiest and sexiest state of bed head.

"Morning, gorgeous" Dean ignored the blond doctor in favor of his grumpy bedmate. Sometime in the middle of the night, Cas had lain fully on his back while Dean curled up next to him.

Cas blinked. He tried to remember where he was and when he turned to see the familiar freckled face, he conjured a small smile. "Hey," he greeted softly, his voice was still rough with sleep. He surprised Dean with a peck on the lips. Dean returned his smile after the initial shock had passed.

"Dean!" Balthazar shouted through the door. "Get your ass up and open the door or I'll call security!"

Dean's eyes loitered a bit longer on Cas' face, neither unwilling to break apart. "Let's do something about that noisy doctor, shall we?" he finally said, but he didn't get up until Cas gave a reluctant consent.

"I so don't want to know what happened in here," Balthazar exclaimed as soon as he stepped in the messed-up room. The pieces of furniture were not where they should be, and apparently Dean wasn't cuffed as the doctor had left him.

Balthazar had to whip around to realize that Cas wasn't even on his own bed. He turned twice more to finally locate Castiel's chart that had been tossed on the floor, only God knew why.

"You know you are plummeting down the list of my favorite patients real fast," Balthazar groused to Castiel with a sigh. "How are you feeling?"

"Never better," Castiel replied timidly. The hint of happiness on his face softened the physician's displeased demeanor. "Thank you, Doctor."

Balthazar nodded his acknowledgement. "I'm going to need to check your injuries."

Castiel let the doctor do his job. When he was done, Balthazar turned to Dean, who climbed up next to Cas when he was told to lie down, earning himself a smack and a stern order to wheel the other bed back in place. Dean followed with a grunt. Once he got on it, his finger got pricked to check the blood sugar level. When they got the result, Dr. Sebastian gave a satisfying nod.

"You got yourself a treat to a special breakfast, Dean. Be grateful."

Dean almost drooled at Dr. Sebastian's words. He had no idea what that 'special breakfast' was, but anything was definitely better than the usual canteen food, even if it came out of the same kitchen.

"After that, you'll be discharged. There won't be a next time," Balthazar warned with a glower. "And you owe me one; add that to the other three hundred and fifty two favors you already owe me."

"It'll come in handy," Dean got back with a wink.

"Doc, wait!" Cas called before the doctor could leave the room. "Can I be discharged today, too?"

"No!" Dean cut in. "You'll be more comfortable here," he explained when two pairs of eyes trained on him. He wished Cas didn't say it or that Dr. Balthazar would keep Cas here as long as he could. Once discharged, it was either being susceptible to potential threats from hundreds other inmates, or facing solitary confinement.

"Please," Cas turned to _beg_ the doctor, deliberately ignoring Dean. "I don't want to be alone."

Balthazar's eyes swiveled from one man to the other. He understood where Castiel was coming from, as well as Dean's concern, but he couldn't let Dean spend another night here even if he wanted to. Maybe he could let Cas go before bedtime, and call him back in the morning.

"I'll see what I can do."

~:~:~

Dean was surprised to find that his breakfast consisted of a _stack_ of pancakes, a bottle of syrup, a fat banana and fruit juice. He wasn't discreet at all, giving out a hearty laugh when he saw what Castiel's food was.

They were sitting facing each other on Castiel's bed with their food trays in between. Cas openly grimaced while he fork-stabbed the pureed excuse of a breakfast. His food was everything pureed: fruits, cooked cereals, muffins, even _pureed_ scrambled eggs.

"Come on, Cas" Dean was still wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes. "It's not that bad."

Cas glared daggers at Dean. He wondered if Dean would still say 'it wasn't that bad' if Cas _pureed_ his pancakes too.

"C'mere, I'll change with you." Dean then made a quick change of their trays, putting his designated meal in front of Cas, who was already salivating at the hotcake delight.

Dean took a forkful of egg into his mouth and winced. "Who the hell purees an egg that was already scrambled?" Dean squawked.

Castiel chuckled as he cut a piece of pancake and smothered it with syrup. He forked the piece and handed it to Dean. Dean reached for the fork, but Cas pulled it away.

"Really, Cas?"

Cas just smiled back at him and offered the food again. Dean had to take a deep breath because he desperately hoped in doing so it would lessen the shade of red on his cheeks. Then he bent over and took the food into his mouth, straight from the fork.

Cas felt his fingers go weak. The intense heat on his face suggested it mirror Dean's ruddy cheeks. He took a small bite of the cake just so he could avoid looking at Dean. Once the food reached his stomach, he kind of knew their foods were different for a reason.

"I can't eat," Cas declared, pushing the tray back to Dean.

"Come on," Dean said, getting up to return the food trays to their rightful owners. He spooned a small scope of pureed peach. "Try a little something else. For me, please?"

Cas simply looked away. "I'm going to be sick," he declined. Throwing up in front of Gabriel was bad enough. He didn't want to do that in front of Dean, too.

"Try it first," Dean insisted. "If you barf, you barf. I don't mind." Even if he did mind, he wouldn't be a dick about it. He had practically raised his little brother. Nursing and cleaning pukes came with the package.

"No," Cas refused, loud and clear.

"Now that's offensive." Dean's remark must have come to Cas as a surprise, for he at once snapped his gaze back at Dean, who found the response amusing. He had seen Cas' _everything_. Hell, they even shared a tiny cell with a toilet bowl in it. Still, it didn't stop Cas from being self-conscious.

"What kind of a man would I be," Dean teased, "if I only take the 'for better' and not the 'or worse'?"

It was fascinating how Cas gradually turned pink on his cheeks and how it spread to his neck and ears. By the time every patch of his skin turned rosy, the high of his cheeks were as radiant as fully ripe tomatoes. Dean would kiss and taste the sweetness of it if he could.

Cas quickly took the pureed fruit into his mouth. Then he glared at Dean to get back to his seat. Dean complied with a smirk, then began wolfing down his pancakes. The peach didn't feel too bad, but it didn't feel too good either, so Cas tried drinking his milk instead.

Dean realized this was the first time they ever had breakfast together, or a proper meal that was not sneak-in food, for that matter. How ironic it was that the most catastrophic incident of all had brought about various breakthroughs in their relationship. Years from now, Dean would think back to this morning and make fun of how their first meal together consisted of Cas picking which puree made him feel the least nauseous.

Then Cas got out of bed, leaving Dean watching his moves, worried, for a good while. When he came back, Cas had a juice box in his hands.

"Chuck gave me this," he said, placing it down on Dean's tray. He stared at it a moment longer before he continued, "He also told me about his visions."

Dean gawked. It was the one thing Dean _never_ thought of telling Cas, and he assumed neither did Chuck. Apparently he was wrong — so, so wrong. Now he was at a loss for how to explain the whole situation.

"Promise me you won't avenge me," Cas blurted.

"What?" Dean squeaked. "No, I can't do that."

"Dean, please." Cas let out a tired sigh. "You're going to get people hurt."

"That's kind of the point," Dean retorted, barely able to control his anger. "They hurt you, Cas. Do you really think I will let them slide?"

"I didn't ask you to let it slide." Cas tried to reason with Dean. "I'm saying there are other ways to handle it."

"Yeah? Like what?" Dean said with a scoff.

"I'm filing a lawsuit." Cas revealed. Yesterday he had agreed to have forensic evidence collected. It was not an easy process. Castiel was glad that Dr. Sebastian let Gabe be with him the whole time. He hoped Dean would understand that he endured it — all of it — for him.

"A lawsuit? God, you could be Sam's bff." Dean huffed with a mocking roll of his eyes. "A lawsuit's not going to do shit!" Dean barked.

"It's your violence that is not going to do shit!" Cas came back just as loudly. "It will only bring more victims and violence, and the underlying problem unaddressed or not even recognized!"

"It doesn't work like that here, Cas!" Dean refused to back down. "If I don't do anything, they will take me for granted and you will be targeted again!"

"I can't shoulder any more deaths!"

That shut Dean up. Silence fell long and heavy in the room. Dean was still seething but, at the same time, speechless as the new angle of things slowly dawned on him. Cas was trembling, subtly at first, until it became a full-on tremor. His voice was hoarse, almost inaudible, when he wheezed, "I just can't."

Dean got up to hold Cas close in his arms. "Fine," he said, kissing the side of Cas' head. "I won't do anything, but Lucifer is dead meat. I won't kill him, but he'll be as good as dead." When Cas went on to protest, Dean stopped him. "I won't take no for an answer."

It took a few moments, but Cas finally went pliant in Dean's arms. At least he had diverted the apocalypse. There would be no chaos, no destruction, nor death.

"And you stay close to me from now on," Dean commanded. "No more I-don't-know-you-I-don't-talk-to-you shit in front of other people. And I don't have to tell you that working in laundry is no longer an option, right?"

Cas nodded. He was also tired of keeping their distance in broad daylight. He knew for sure public displays of affection were out of the question, but he'd rather be by Dean's side than not.

"Thank you, Dean."

~:~:~

Dean hardly finished his pancakes when _three_ officers came for him, bawling that Warden Crowley asked to see him, now. Dean stalled just because he could, telling Cas to finish the food then taking another big chunk of the cake and washing it down with his juice. When he got up, however, he was surprised to see that he was not only put in handcuffs, but also in leg cuffs with a chain linked between them.

"I'll be fine," he assured Cas when he saw the terrified look on the other guy's face, though deeply Dean doubted his own words. This was not a normal procedure in this place. "It's normal procedure," Dean said with a wink. The reassurance, he was not sure, was meant for Cas or for himself.

Cas ran up to them before they could leave the room. He gave Dean a firm squeeze on the hand that couldn't have lasted longer than two seconds, but that was all the confident Dean needed.

When Dean reached the warden's office, Crowley's toady self in a crisply pressed suit and the sneer that never left his face was already waiting for him.

"Winchester!" he greeted. The fake smile already gave Dean the heeby jeebies.

"Crowley," Dean exchanged his greeting.

" _Warden_ Crowley"

Dean scoffed. "Whatever"

"Well, then," the warden feigned a sigh, rounding his desk to retrieve a file. "Looks like I'll have to add one more 'act in an offensive manner' to your list of offences."

"What offence?"

Crowley smirked, opening the file and _not_ reading from it. "You have been disciplined too many times for your violent outbursts, Dean Winchester, but what I will not tolerate is violence against my people and my place."

"What the hell?" Dean cried blankly. He had no idea what kind of crap Crowley was pulling.

"Several inmates witnessed you threatened to kill our hard-working officers and, and I quote, 'your wife and your children and your fucking grandchildren!'" Crowley dramatically flipped the file close and tossed it back on his desk. He shoved both his hands in his pant pockets, eyeing Dean straight in the face, daring. "You also threatened to 'burn this place down'. Need I go on?"

"Go get Lucifer!" Dean lunged at the warden, but was yanked back by his shackles. Two officers locked him by his sides at once. "He was the one who raped another inmate in front of everyone!"

"Oh, Lucifer received his punishment alright." Crowley's disgusting lie made Dean lunge forward again, the sound of chains rattling echoing across the room. He knew for a fact that Lucifer put himself into the hole more as a protective custody. "We're here to discuss you, Squirrel."

Outraged, Dean tried to wrench free from the two officers, but it only made him end up a tangled mess within the chains, which got him even more frustrated. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Crowley seemed to be enjoying the sight far too much, so Dean stopped, huffing in the process.

"Fine. How long?"

Solitary confinement was no stranger to Dean. He might as well take the opportunity to finish off Lucifer, 'strike while the iron is hot' as the saying went. Cas would be safer when he was discharged from the infirmary.

Crowley raised one questioning eyebrow, then guffawed when he understood what Dean meant. "Oh, no, no, no, we're not talking the hotbox here," he refuted with an element of perverted glee. "You will be sent to the State Penitentiary, where they house Supermax."

Dean went pale with shock. The State Penitentiary was located in a different county. Not only it meant he would have to be in a super-maximum security prison, rarely see the light of day, literally; it also meant he would be separated, hundreds of miles away, from Cas.

"You can't do that," he sputtered, weakness shown in his voice.

"Oh, I can. And I did," Crowley leered with a too eager smile. "You'll be transferred this afternoon. Plenty of time to pack, Cupcake"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** In case you're wondering how Dean got in here, it was partly explained in chapter eleven. More will be further explored in future chapters.
> 
>  **neanderthalbutt** mentioned going back to read previous chapter(s). I personally think that might be a good idea, especially once things are revealed along the way (providing that you have nothing better to do, of course). There might be a few things you missed on your first read.
> 
> That said, any other question, uh, fire away?
> 
> Special thanks go to **darkphoenix2345, Otex, SmokingJazz, aLoggedInReader, Angelpheonixwings14, EMSmith, Riceball-1989, ViosShadow, AssbuttInTheImpala, neanderthalbutt, PhayzonTech, weedom, samanddeanfan1, darkrose_9, shenova, Ariel (Kalli_Ravenne), cider_jelly, Mycolour, MatildaMavis, CassXDeano,** and **Keefer** for leaving your reviews for the last chapter. Writing does not come to me naturally. If it weren't for you, I would have given up long time ago. :))


	15. California

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Jo go back to California.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for reading this far and thank you everyone who has left a review. In this chapter, there is one steamy shower scene between Sam and Jo, which is not entirely irrelevant but can be skipped if it’s not your cup of tea. I just need an excuse to write some porn, and Dean and Cas are not giving me one.

"Sam, when are you going to call it a day? You've been studying those files for hours!" Jo whined.

After visiting Dean that afternoon, Sam and Jo caught the next flight to California. Since it was already late, they agreed to check themselves in a motel room following a quick dinner. Sam's nose hardly surfaced from the case files since he had left the penitentiary.

"Just a minute. There's got to be something," Sam answered without even looking up. His forehead furrowed deep in concentration. He was determined to find that magical _something_ which could be Dean's passport to freedom. Something that linked Castiel's victims to these murders. If Castiel could find it, so could he. Partial prints were not strong evidence in court, so he had to find something else. But the crime scene was too clean. No, the crime scene was a mess, from an outsider's point of view, but it was a freakishly neat mess. There was hardly any forensic evidence left for the police to investigate.

"Look at these M.E. reports," Jo beckoned him over. In her hands were reports from the medical examiner on Castiel's parents' murder case, and the ones from the two people Cas killed. "They are creepily _almost_ identical," she pointed out with a visible shudder.

Sam snatched the papers from her and studied them. She was right. The details from the two reports, even though issued from different labs, were practically the same. Sam couldn't help getting goose bumps. No one killer could ever leave the exact same marks in different victims. To be able to pull this, one must have access, knowledge and guts on the verge of psychotic. It was as if Castiel _designed_ his victims' bodies to be the exact replicas of those of his parents, as if Castiel wanted the killers to have a taste of the same fate his parents did. Sam shuddered one more time at what kind of a man his brother had fallen for.

Then a fleeting thought hit his mind.

"What if that strand of hair wasn't a mistake? What if Castiel deliberately put it there so he himself could be caught?" To think one would _accidentally_ leave an obvious trail in a crime scene that neat would be idiotic. After all, it was a hair that contained nuclear DNA: one which allowed the extraction of a complete DNA profile.

"How did they match Castiel's DNA?" Jo brought up a very interesting question. "He never was in the system. He didn't even have a rap sheet prior to this one."

Sam flipped open a file. "It says here that his was a near match to Anna Milton's, from the State of California's DNA database."

"Did it say how she got her DNA in the system?"

Sam looked at the file again and shook his head.

"Okay, good thing we're still in LA," said Jo, getting up. "I'm going to give an old friend from the LAPD a call; see if we can hit the local station first thing in the morning." She took out her phone and headed out of the room, but not before she turned and commanded strongly, "I expect you to be in bed when I return."

At which Sam could only give a weak smile.

~:~:~

"Sam!" Jo wailed, seeing Sam hadn't even moved from the same spot when she came back into the room.

"Just a minute," Sam quickly cut in, knowing where this conversation was going. Still, he didn't look up from the mess of papers on the table.

"You have to stop beating yourself up," Jo commented wearily. She started flipping the files close and tidying up the mess.

"Hey!" Sam cried in protest, opening again the files Jo had folded. "I'm not going to stop, okay? Not until I can get Dean out of that place."

"I know! But it doesn't mean you can't get yourself some rest," Jo fought back, "or live your own life."

"I'm not living my own life without him!" Sam retorted, but the flash of pain in Jo's eyes quickly deflated him.

It had always been an unspoken impasse in their relationship. People had been telling him to 'move on', especially after Dean refused to walk free when he had the chance. But what kind of a brother would he be if he let Dean rot in purgatory without doing his best to get him out? For this reason, his relationship with Jo never progressed. But even if she wanted it to, she never pushed.

"Jo, I'm sorry."

But Jo was already retreating to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower," she said, pointedly ignoring him.

Sam threw the papers on the desk, exasperated. He stood staring at the heave of white pages and black text as if they could give him the answer to the universe, or at least some answers to Dean's problems. But it didn't, Sam hesitantly accepted, as he put them back in their respective folders. Silence filled the room except the sound of water running. Jo kept her door open, as well as a chance for him to ask for forgiveness.

He stripped in haste and walked into the bathroom that was now hazy with steam. Quietly, he slipped in the shower and wrapped his arms around the delicate figure.

"Took you long enough," Jo remarked as she spun around and rested her head on Sam's chest.

"I'm sorry I was such a jerk," Sam apologized to her, running comforting touches up and down the slick curves of Jo's back. "It's just that seeing him today totally threw me off. I never saw him that fucked up. 'Looks like crap' doesn't even begin to cut it."

Sam pushed them beneath the shower head, ducking his head under the spray of water, letting it soak his hair and face. He never saw Dean so devastated. Heck, he rarely saw Dean break down. Dean Winchester did not break down in his book, not in front of his baby brother.

"We're going to help him, Sam. But you just can't rush things in the criminal justice system," Jo reassured him, turning them around so Sam's back was now blocking the jet of water, giving him much-needed refreshing ease. "And I might know a way or two to help you relieve your stress," she whispered as she slowly slid downwards, locking eyes with her boyfriend.

Sam easily pulled Jo up on her feet with a smirk. "You know nothing, Joanna Beth," he crooned before claiming her lips. Jo yelped in surprise but quickly threw her arms behind Sam's neck as he pulled their bodies flushed together. Sam moaned into the kiss while their tongues fought to devour the intensified lust. His large palms slid down to cup the roundness of her ass, squeezing and yanking her hips forward. Sam's hard-on scraped against her belly, demanding friction. She had to resist the urge to jump up and lock her legs around his waist. The bathtub was slippery and it could be hazardous.

Sam, however, slowly backed her towards the end of the tub and gingerly sat her down on the narrow deck at the foot of it. Jo hissed when the cool tile touched her skin.

A corner of Sam's lips curled into a crooked smile. He crouched between her parted legs, capturing her lips into another kiss. She quickly wrapped her arms around Sam, pulling him close, needing to feel his firm muscles crushed against hers again. But the angle was awkward; the only skin she could touch was via her calves that slid up and down the length of Sam's thighs.

"Sam," Jo pleaded, her voice broken, as she arched her back, begging for more physical contact.

"I got you," Sam bit and licked the lobe of her ear as he gave her promising words. Jo shivered and moaned prettily as warm breath ghosted over her sensitive skin.

Despite her tough façade, Jo was soft and sweet-smelling in all places. It drove Sam insane as he left trails of kisses along her neck and shoulders. His palms grazed over the small of her waist, so lean he could almost wrap it around with both hands. When Sam sunk his teeth under her collarbone, marking her, Jo groaned, nails digging into Sam's full biceps, leaving biting crescent bruises.

Then Sam cupped one of her breasts and gently kneaded it. This was Jo's favorite part; Sam's too, the way her perfect bust molded neatly into his palms, as if it was carved out from the same clay by the same master sculptor. Sam tasted the other breast with his lips, sucking round it in earnest.

"Oh, Sam," she whimpered, letting her head fall back against the wall. Jo arched her back, urging to get them sucked faster and deeper into the hot of his mouth. As his tongue twisted eagerly round and round the hardened nipple, she got more vocal and her thrusts more pressing. He moved to give both her breasts equal treatment. Jo's toes curled in excitement as she planted her feet to the sides of the tub, seeking some footing.

"Please," Jo begged between her moans and Sam's hungry suckles. She reached one hand between her legs, grabbing Sam's hard length and rubbing the head against her wet cunt.

"Fuck," Sam groaned, pushing himself a little away to breathe. Jo's beautiful cries of pleasure had made him so hard it was almost painful. But he didn't even _yet_ start what he had intended to do, so he carefully removed Jo's hand and lowered his face until it was a hairbreadth away from her pussy. Sam looked up to meet Jo's eyes, making a show of inhaling the scent of her arousal.

"Sam, I swear to God—"

Jo's threat was cut short when Sam dived his nose into the soft wisp of her hair, his lips pressed in between her flesh and he tenderly sucked her clit into his mouth. Jo screamed unabashedly. Good thing their adjacent rooms were empty, though Sam was sure it could be heard through the end of the hall.

"Fuck, Sam!" Jo cussed, but if the hands that kept pushing his head down were any sign, she didn't want him to stop. Sam darted his tongue out, flicking it vigorously across her wet lips, crushing her clit with every stripe. Jo shook and moaned, long and breathless. Her hips bucked frantically as if she couldn't decide whether she should pull away and stop the overwhelming senses or shove them closer into Sam's face and trip herself over the edge.

It didn't matter, though, for Sam locked her in place as he increased his plunges, drinking down the juice that kept overflowing from her vagina. _This_ was a much more pleasant way to relieve his tension. When a gorgeous girl was wriggling in amorous desire at his mercy, it felt as if he had the world under control. Knowing that at least he could make someone feel better, when he wanted to.

"Oh, God, Sam, I'm going to—" Jo didn't have a chance to finish her sentence as her whole body went tense and then trembled, waves of ecstasy pulsed through her muscles as she came. Sam took a moment to catch his breath and admire the lovely sight of a fucked-out Jo, before he rubbed his palms along her inner thighs and pushed her legs further apart.

"Holy fuck!" Jo shrieked when Sam's face disappeared between her crotch again. This time, his sneaky tongue slipped into her dripping hole. Jo thrashed wildly until Sam had to clasp her hips tight so they were leveled with his face. After that there was nothing else Jo could do except pant out a hearty moan as Sam savagely tongue-fucked her G-spot. The tip of his nose rubbed mercilessly against her clit. It didn't take long for Jo to come again, her pale skin reddened with feverish thrill.

Sam let her wind down this time. He gave himself a couple of pulls and came with low groans. Sitting back, leaning his head against the wall, he let the spray of cool water clean his body and calm his high. Not long after, Jo came straddling him, placing gentle kisses on his lips.

"You bastard," she said playfully, rinsing with water her wetness that still clung to his face. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Sam burst out a laugh. "What? You didn't enjoy it?"

Jo smiled in reply and bent down to kiss him again. "I can do this all night," she purred against his lips. "But we have a damsel to save and a police to visit tomorrow. Can't catch a cold now, can we?"

Sam reluctantly agreed. No matter how much he enjoyed his shower time with Jo, reality awaited. He turned the faucet off, giving Jo lingering kisses until the air became too chilly on their damp skin.

As they retired to bed that night, arms and legs tangling together, Sam thanked whatever Higher Power out there that allowed this calamity to happen, giving him a second chance to re-unite with Jo. He knew he couldn't have asked for a better girlfriend.

~:~:~

Turned out Jo's friend was a tech specialist in the Los Angeles Police Department, a petite red-haired girl that was too chirpy for Sam's liking.

"Hey, girl, good to see you again." Jo went up to embrace her old friend as soon as they stepped into the crime lab and was led to her work station.

"Hey yourself," the redhead grinned, kissing Jo on the cheeks. "Beautiful as always, JB," she said, giving Jo a once-over and licking her lips in gratification. Sam could only frown. When she finally noticed him, she nodded her approval. "I see you got yourself some beefcake."

Jo blushed furiously. "This is Sam, uh, my boyfriend. Sam, Charlie," she quickly introduced.

Charlie's eyes became bright with mischievous glints. She extended a hand that Sam tentatively took. "Charlie Bradbury," she said with purpose. And when she did not let go, Sam was obliged to return the greeting. "Sam Winchester," he said with a tight smile.

"Winchester, huh? That name does ring a bell," Charlie mumbled, more to herself. She frowned while the chipset of her brain ran through all the data in her hard drive. Sam and Jo could only exchange uneasy looks. "A-ha!" she then cried out, turning to slap Jo on the arm. "You finally get that guy you've been pining for! Way to go, lady!" she beamed excitedly.

Jo stiffened. She dared not turn to look Sam's way.

"That, uh," Sam cleared his throat. "That would be my brother."

A big O formed on the redhead's lips. She subtly turned back to her computer, a giant 'awkward' written across everyone's faces.

Jo slipped her hand into Sam's large one, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The corners of Sam's lips curled into an appreciative smile.

"So, Anna Milton," Charlie broke the uncomfortable silence, typing away on her computer. "According to the database, her DNA was entered into the system because she was a suspect in a breaking and entering case," the technician drove straight to the point. "There was a break-in to a jewelry store next to her restaurant. The point of entry was through an air duct that connected their shops. Police found locks of red hair trapped in there, so they requested her DNA sample. It didn't match, by the way, but she didn't request for the profile to be removed so it was still in the system."

"Did they catch the bad guy?" Jo asked.

"Oh, for that I need to access the case file. Give me a min," Charlie said, again typing away on her keyboard. "Here we go. Looks like… no. They didn't catch the bad guy, or girl," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Okay, so Castiel knows that his sister's DNA is in the system," Sam said. "That's why he left his hair and not his fingerprints, because those cannot be connected to him."

"But why would he want to be caught?"

"I don't know. Guilty conscience?" Sam raised a brow. "Maybe he was done with his revenge and decided to turn himself in? It's not unheard of."

A ringing noise interrupted their conversation. Sam looked at his phone's caller ID. "Sorry, I need to take this," he excused himself.

"Dean, what's going on?" Jo heard Sam say into the phone. "You what? … Alright, Dean, calm down. I'll take care of it… Would you calm the fuck down? … I need to hang up. I need to call Ellen. You call me back later, okay? … Dean, we got this. Don't worry. … I said don't fucking worry!"

Jo knew something bad had happened. Sam never cursed over the phone unless some real shit was going down. True to her words, Sam returned, panic unmistakable on his face.

"Jo, we have a problem."

~:~:~

When the door swung open, Sam immediately put on his professional friendly grin despite the fact that he and Jo had been driving their rental car in a strained, uncomfortable silence the whole of their one-hour drive to Castiel's cabin home.

"It's you again," the corpulent lady muttered when she saw who her guests were.

"Good morning, Missouri," Sam greeted, ignoring the nearly unwelcome reception. "We come bearing some good news. May we come in?"

Missouri seemed to weigh her option for a second, but eventually stepped aside to let the detectives in.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Tea?" she offered, wandering off towards the back of the house.

Sam and Jo exchanged looks. "Just water would be fine," Jo hollered in reply.

They sat themselves on the couch. Minutes later, Missouri came back with a tray in her hands, holding glasses of water and juice and a plate of biscuits. Her husband followed at her heels.

"So what brings you here?" she said as she placed the tray down on the coffee table and sat on the adjacent chair. Rufus remained standing nearby. Sam quickly grabbed a glass of water and gulped it down, suddenly feeling nervous at the prospect of finally getting something to help Dean out.

"We have new information on Mr. and Mrs. Milton's murder case," Jo piped in, saving Sam's ass. "We might be able to identify the killers."

That seemed to pique Missouri's interest. Rufus shifted on his feet. "And who might that be?"

Jo raised a finger in the air, stopping the lady from speaking any further. "We have found six other cases with the same M.O. We discovered evidence that led us to believe the suspects for these six cases are the same people," Jo paused, observing Missouri's expression while Sam did Rufus, "and that they were the people Castiel murdered."

Missouri suddenly let out an audible gasp. She caught herself on the arms of the chair as if she was about to faint. Rufus had to hold her by the sides.

"Look, we want to help Castiel," Sam cut in when the silence dragged on for too long. "He has this information that prosecutors want. It could close six cold cases. He could use it to negotiate his terms, maybe get less time served or a move to a facility with lesser security restrictions, or both."

"But why," Missouri wheezed, not understanding. "Why are you helping him?"

Sam and Jo exchanged looks again, until finally Sam let out a long sigh, and blurted, "My brother asked me to do it. He shares the same cell as Castiel's."

Missouri looked taken aback, but quickly composed herself. "What can we help you with?"

Jo made her request, "Can we take a look at his room?"

"No!" Rufus retorted firmly. Missouri gawked at her husband.

"You said you had arranged for his things to be kept here," Jo carefully continued. "If we could go through his things and find out how he found a connection to it—"

"His things are off-limits." Rufus straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest in an intimidating pose. "Either you come back with a search warrant or don't come back at all."

"Rufus!" His wife reproved him.

Just then Jo's phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and excused herself. "I need to take this," she said, getting up and heading to the door. "Agent Harvelle," she spoke into the phone, but Sam wasn't sure if she was stating her name or greeting the other agent on the other end of the line. He excused himself to the hosts and quickly followed Jo outside.

"They managed to postpone Dean's transfer for two weeks," Jo told him after she hung up. So it was Ellen she was speaking to.

"What the hell in two weeks?" Sam cried in disbelief. "Why was he being transferred _at all_?" He thought Ellen had everything at her command, that Dean was protected and well taken care of, that _they_ were invincible.

"It was complicated," Jo replied with an exhausted sigh. "At least we bought some time, okay? While my mom tries to find a way to help him. They should come up with something by then."

But what if they didn't? Sam thought frantically. What if they couldn't revoke the request and Dean had to be transferred to another prison? He wouldn't worry too much if it was just Dean. But Sam knew his brother would claw at his cellmate for dear life. _'I won't leave without him,'_ Dean's words still rang in his ears.

"What about Castiel? Can we move him, too?" Sam asked hopefully.

Jo shook her head. "We can't. Castiel is beyond our reach."

There went his chance of saving Dean, Sam thought with anger and regret. It was as if he was the only one who _cared_ , the only person who ran around like a maniac, fighting for Dean's escape while everyone else refused to do even their slightest bit.

Sam stomped back into the house, throwing fists into the air as his temper flared. "Do you fucking care about Castiel at all?" Sam bawled at the two housekeepers, making them jump. "You said you raised Castiel as a son, but do you fucking care how he is treated in prison? Have you ever visited him?"

"Castiel told us not to—"

"He was raped! Repeatedly! If it weren't for my brother who is in there, protecting him, Castiel would have had every dick in there shoved up his ass by now!"

"Sam, stop!" Jo raised her voice, struggling to push the gigantic wall of Sam's body out of the house.

"Well, good news!" Sam shouted over Jo's head, his face flaming red. "My brother will be transferred shortly. After that Castiel will be on his own, among rapists and murderers. Let's see how long he'll last!"

Jo shoved at the colossal mass of her boyfriend until his ass landed on the ground, at the first step of the porch in front of the Miltons' house. "What the hell, Sam?" she barked. "How is what you did going to help Castiel? Or Dean!"

She was beside herself with matching fury, but Sam now collapsed into a fit of desperation. "We will never be able to help him. We will never be able to get Dean out. I could never get Dean out."

Jo softened seeing her boyfriend break down in tears. After all, she knew how much it meant to him, how much Sam wanted to repay Dean for his sacrifices, how much he wanted his brother back by his side. She knelt down and held him in her arms. "We'll think of something, Sam. We'll get him out."

"BUT HE'S MY BABY, TOO!"

They both startled at the yelling and slamming of doors. Rufus and Missouri were now fighting on the porch. It looked like Missouri was trying to approach them while her husband tried to hold her back.

"Castiel has given us strict orders!" Rufus hissed, grabbing his wife by the arm.

"To hell with it!" she bellowed, jerking her arm away. "I'll be damned if I stand aside and let them hurt my baby. You should be ashamed of yourself, you old mutt!"

"You could at least respect his wishes!" the old man snapped back.

Missouri bent down to the two visitors, who were still shocked at the scene. "There's something I need to tell you," she said calmly.

"Don't do this to him," Rufus groaned weakly, pinching the bridge of his nose in defeat.

"The night that Castiel claimed to murder those two guys," Missouri began unfolding her side of the story. "He was actually here, with us, in this house."

~:~:~

"WINCHESTER!"

Crowley screamed at the top of his lungs, hauling the telephone receiver into the wall. The black apparatus was smashed into tiny pieces. The burst of volcanic wrath incurred from hearing from the State Penitentiary that they could not accept the transferring prisoner at their previously arranged date.

"You think you could override my order?" he hissed in disgust. "I. AM. THE KING OF HELL! I CHOOSE WHO LIVES OR DIES!"

His whole body quivered with rage. His forehead broke in sweat as his devilish mind raced to find new schemes to get back at Dean; to show _everyone_ the consequences of defying the Dark Overlord.

When a Eureka moment hit, he hungrily grabbed it. The warden harshly pulled open a cabinet, leafing through files of their current inmates. Finally, a name caught his eyes. He pulled out the file, studying it with an evil grin.

"Meet Ricky Cortez, murderer, sex offender with multiple assaults. Hmph," Crowley hummed lightly. Cortez was not so smart, but he was violent, and perpetually horny, and he hated Dean with every fiber of his being. He was now in solitary confinement as a result of a recent attack he made on his cellmate.

"Susan!" he yelled, getting irritated again now that he had no phone to use and so had to shout.

His personal assistant stumbled into the room with a startling look on her face. She had heard all his previous outbursts and had prayed to every god in existence that she wouldn't have to face it.

Crowley tossed the file across his desk. "Get Cortez out of the shoe box and get Milton in the same cell with him."

Her voice was shaken when she interjected, "But Warden—"

"TODAY!" Crowley roared. If one more person thought they could challenge him, the fire of fury was sure as hell going to rain down this hellhole, and he would know. "Or I'll bloody put you in his cell AND EVERY DAMN CELL IN THIS FUCKING BUILDING!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, the boys will be back in action (and lots of it) in the next chapter.
> 
> There’s this one question that has been nagging me for months now, so I think I’ll just ask and get it over with. I know many readers are particular about bed scenes. So, as a reader of this fic, would it freak you out if there’s a bottom!Dean scene? Or would it freak you out if there’s a bottom!Cas scene? Feel free to give your honest opinion, though I can’t promise it will change anything. :)


	16. Give Me Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel doesn't have a choice. His chance to prove himself comes, tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your reviews and replies. It was an 'enlightening' read. To answer a guest's question, yes, HEA is on the way.

"Dean, calm down."

The younger Winchester rubbed his face hard while his other hand held on to the steering wheel, his frustration full to the brim. They were driving back from Castiel's cabin home to the airport. Jo had the phone in the air between them. Dean's voice shot loud and clear through the speaker.

Sam was getting tired of this. It must be the tenth time that day that he said those words to his brother. Dean wouldn't stop being restless, even after Sam assured him that they would come up with something within Dean's two weeks' notice, before Dean could be transferred to another facility.

"Don't you _fucking_ dare tell me to calm down, Sam!" Dean practically yelled into the phone. Sam could hear his brother shake with frantic fury. "Thanks to your half-ass job, Crowley is pissed. He is moving Cas to another cell!"

"Then do something about it!" Jo shot back, having had enough. She had been with her boyfriend the whole time he had worked his ass off trying his damn best to save his brother. Dean had no right to come down on him.

"Shut up, Jo. I'm not talking to you," Dean snapped. Since the incident that had put Dean in incarceration, he had been holding his grudge against Ellen, blaming her for an assignment gone wrong and a glitch she had no control over. Most of the time, it passed on to her daughter, as well.

"What I'm trying to say is," Jo said, collecting herself, sensing Sam tensed up beside her at their little quarrel. "You know, well in advance, which cell Castiel would be sent to. You could handle his new cellmate; send him to the infirmary or solitary. Your choice. Just don't kill him and you'll be fine."

There was silence from the other end of the line. This was so unlike Dean, Sam thought to himself as he kept his eyes on the road. The hot-headed Dean that Sam knew would come up with this solution, plus hundred others, very easily.

"Crowley will just move him to another cell. I can't keep doing this forever," Dean mumbled, resignation apparent in his voice.

"It won't be forever, Dean," Jo offered. "The next person unfortunate enough to be assigned as Castiel's new cellmate will come begging you to swap cells with him."

That sounded like a good plan, even for Sam. He knew his brother survived the pen this far partly because of his close combat skills. He had never been more grateful to endless hours of excruciating fighting lessons Bobby had put them through when they were young.

"I can't do this," Dean said with finality which had Sam and Jo taken aback. "Get the transfer order back, Sam. I'm moving out today. I'm taking Cas with me."

"We can't, Dean!" Sam wailed into the phone wearily. "I told you Castiel is beyond our reach."

"Then DO SOMETHING!"

Both people in the car let out a long, silent sigh; simultaneously turning their heads away from the phone as if Dean could see their tedium. Sam fought the urge to say 'calm down' one more time, knowing full well it didn't affect his brother in the slightest bit.

"Did you do what I told you to?" Sam changed the subject. "Did you ask him?"

"Yes, I did and he won't leave," Dean replied flatly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Fuck it, Sam. I don't care where I am. Crowley has to go."

"Not on the phone, Dean!"

"If Cas stays, he leaves," Dean continued, heedless of his brother's warning. "You run the case. Bring that son of a bitch down — or I will."

"Dean!"

But Dean was already gone. The silence over the phone was replaced with a rhythmic beep-beep-beep of a line hung up.

Sam pulled the car off the road, stomping on the brake pedal. It came to a jerky stop. "Fuck," he cursed in irritation, hitting the steering wheel for good measure. When would his brother at least be half as compliant as Sam had hoped him to be? That Castiel guy was also no different.

All of a sudden, Sam made a sharp U-turn. He had a better idea.

~:~:~

Dean had made up his mind. Two could play the game. If that toady _warden_ wanted to get back at him, then Dean could do the same, if not worse. Fuck what he had promised Cas.

As he neared the common area, he could hear loud cheering from within. Dean dismissed it as another game of poker. That was, until he heard Castiel's name.

"Come on, cabrones!" Dean saw red hearing the familiar Mexican accent. "Give me all you got and his lovely culo is yours! The highest bidder gets the first night. Well, the first night after me, of course. Seriously, Parker? Two stamps? By the time your turn comes, he'll be so lose; you can shove your arm up his ass."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Dean roared. The snickering died down as soon as he burst through the door, the air thick and sickening. He made a quick scan of the room while marching to where twelve inmates gathered around Cas' cellmate-to-be. There were four guards in the corners and seven other inmates scattered around the hall. After the incident with Lucifer, Dean couldn't know for certain who would back him up. He was, undoubtedly, outnumbered.

"I'm whoring out my new cellmate, Dean," Cortez taunted. "If you want to join the queue—"

The heel of Dean's hand hit the Mexican inmate's face before he even knew it. Cortez's head tilted backwards, crimson liquid dripping from his lips. The sight stirred a vicious urge inside Dean: one that was both deadly to himself and fatal to others. At that moment, all Dean could see was images of a bloody Castiel, and violence was the only way to get rid of them.

"Dean, stop it!"

A familiar voice halted Dean from further assaults, before all hell could break loose. "Cas?" Dean cried with a frown, still unbelieving his own eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I was discharged," Castiel replied calmly, as if there wasn't going to be a fight at all. He elaborated with a sigh when Dean still held a bemused look on his face. "Dr. Sebastian had to let me go. There was an order."

"Hell yeah," somebody scoffed from behind them. "The first queue is tonight."

Suddenly Dean remembered where he was and why he was there. Enraged, he charged towards the insolent inmate, only to be blocked by none other than the object of their victimization.

"Let me go, Cas! I'm going to kill them. All of them!" Dean bellowed over Cas' shoulders. He tried to shove pass his cellmate, but the man had more brawn than Dean gave him credit for.

"Dean, you promised me."

"Get out of my way! You saw what they're going to do to you!"

"You promised me!"

They stared at each other, heaving from the push and shove and shouting. Dean was still furious, but Cas had the determination of a bulldog. His usual bright eyes hardened and Dean found himself wavering under his domineering demeanor.

"Told you Dean is a bottom," somebody snickered.

Dean's body moved of its own accord, and Cas let him go this time. The mouthy prisoner got a knock-out punch in the jaw before Cas stepped between them again, a hard glare back on his face. Dean grabbed Cas by the shirt and Cas let himself be dragged out of the room.

Castiel was thrown into their cell. He swayed a little, then Dean's arms were around him and his face was hidden at the crook of Cas' neck. Dean was practically shaking and his hold around Cas became tighter by the second.

"Dean," Cas wrapped his arms around Dean, rubbing soothing strokes along his back. He knew this stance all too well. Dean was scared, and all Cas wanted to do was comfort him. "Dean, I'm alright."

Dean shook his head wildly against Cas' shoulder, refusing to accept the words of consolation. No, they were not alright. They were losing this fight and there was nothing Dean could do about it. Cas was going to get hurt, again, and again, and again, all because of him.

"I'm sorry I can't keep you safe," Dean mumbled through his snotty nose. "I tried. God knows I tried, so hard."

Cas pulled Dean up to meet his eyes. Dean's face was wet with tears, his nose swollen and reddish. He looked away self-consciously. Cas found the sight endearing, if anything.

He would have been scared, too, a hundred times more than Dean was right now, but Gabriel had found him before he could be discharged from the infirmary. His teacher said that, sooner or later, Castiel would have to make it known to everyone that he was not an easy target, for his own safety and for Dean's sake. Cas didn't have a choice, though; the chance to prove himself came, tonight.

"It's not your job to save me, Dean. I can take care of myself. Isn't that what you've been trying to teach me?" he crooned.

Dean shook his head, still refusing to be salved or meet Cas' gaze. "I'm nothing if I can't save you."

"Dean" Cas narrowed his eyes. A realization dawned on him. "You think I am with you because I want your protection?"

Dean ducked his head lower and pursed his lips. That was all the answer Cas needed. A loving smile curled up on his face. After all this time, Dean still did not realize that Cas never wanted Dean's physical protection. Dean _himself_ was the only force Cas needed, to fight off his night terrors, and now, his daytime enemies.

Cas cupped Dean's face and looked him in the eyes. "You _are_ my strength, Dean," he said firmly. "Now let me be yours."

Before Dean knew it, Cas let go of him and strode out of their cell. Dean froze in shock before he gathered himself and ran out in time to see Cas wander around among other inmates, who scattered about the hallway.

"Cas!" he called. Castiel turned around at his voice, a playful grin on his face as he strolled backwards, further away from him. Something in Cas' eyes told Dean to stand there, and watch. Dean's feet stopped short. He noticed Cas had his pants a little lower than usual, exposing a little too much of his skin, having Dean fear for the worst.

Sure enough, somebody grabbed a handful of his ass.

Cas seized the perpetrator's wrist just as swiftly. He turned, twisted and locked the arm, his elbow anchoring on the side of the guy's neck. Cas kneed him once, twice. The man doubled over with a grunt. He then yanked him face down to the floor, throwing his weight on him. The guy's arm was bent and twisted backwards when Cas' other hand took a hold of his palm and snapped it. The sound of a broken joint was deafened by a howl of pain.

Dean rushed to the scene. "Cas!"

"Next time you even think of touching me," Castiel growled over the scream, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Prepare to get a few bones broken."

Dean hauled Cas to his feet and quickly pulled him back into their cell. Everyone was shell-shocked; the only sound that could be heard was the yowling from the guy dumb enough to lay his hand on the blue-eyed inmate.

Dean was about to give Cas an earful when he noticed the other man was shaking. It was only then that he realized how scared Cas must be, doing something he was unacquainted with. Cas did not do it just because he could, but he did it to prove his point.

Dean pulled him into his arms, hoping the tight embrace would help Cas regain his nerve.

"You did great, Cas," he gave him reassuring words. "I'm very proud of you."

Cas was still pretty shaken up by the whole incident. It didn't matter how good a fighter he was. He would never get used to inflicting physical injuries on other people, even if it was a necessity.

"I hurt him," he wheezed, leaning more into Dean's warm and secure embrace.

"He'll live," Dean gave a nonchalant reply, squeezing him one more time before placing Cas on a rung of the ladder that led to the upper bed. Cas sat a little above Dean's eye-level.

Dean leaned in to graze the back of his fingers along Cas' stubble, a proud smug on his face. "Besides, I don't think anyone will dare come near you again now. You were pretty badass."

"I was?" Cas blushed with a timid smile.

"Yeah, badass," Dean grinned, pecking him on the lips, "and hot."

They kissed each other's smiles, once, twice, before Cas threw his arms around Dean, pulling him close, deepening the kiss. It still surprised him how trembling his body had been. Giving out a punishment that didn't fit the crime wasn't something he would do, had he been in a different setting. But it had to be done, and he did it, and Dean was proud of him.

Dean ravaged Cas with hungry lips and a needy tongue, something he couldn't help himself if he wanted to. The sight of a BAMF Cas knocked his socks off, so much so that it turned him on. It was both graceful and arousing, how Cas could take another guy out in one swift motion. Maybe Dean liked his man a little rough, a little clingy, a bit of a tease, and a dork, coming close to a heavenly being.

By the time they were panting for air, Dean already sported a hard-on. He hoped Cas did not notice it, but it was almost impossible to hide under the thin fabric of his pants. Dean tried to think of something repulsive, and Crowley's vomit-inducing face popped up in his mind.

"God," Dean groaned, suddenly remembering there were more important things that needed to be taken care of. "I have to go check who are the guards on duty tonight, see if I can bribe any of them to let you stay with me."

"Dean, don't." Cas stopped him before Dean could turned away. "Gabriel and I have a plan."

~:~:~

It was another night Chuck knew he wouldn't get his sleep. Despite the fact that Castiel scared everyone off by showing how easily he could break a bone, and as a result everyone who had queued up sharing the cell with him had bailed, Castiel was still not in Dean's cell. Worse still, Cortez, Castiel's new cellmate, was even more pissed because it meant his source of enormous income was completely demolished.

Chuck lied awake in the dark, awaiting the inevitable scream and yelling and growling of menace that still hadn't come. All he heard so far, besides the usual snores, were grunts and thuds that he couldn't make out what they were from. He was beginning to think that he might be wrong, for once, that Castiel and Cortez were now best buds who slept peacefully in their respective beds. It was then that he heard a voice, barely audible. Castiel was calling Dean's name.

"Cas?" Dean's voice was a little louder than Castiel's when he replied. If anyone missed Cas' voice earlier, they wouldn't miss Dean's. "Baby, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine."

Cas' voice level now matched Dean's. Chuck quietly sighed in relief. They weren't shouting, so his friend might actually be fine.

"But Cortez might not."

A gasp escaped the psychic's lips. _This_ was not good.

"What? Cas?" Dean's voice was dripping with worry. "What did he do to you?"

"I, uh… I… He…" Castiel stuttered. Then he took a deep breath, and blurted, "He jumped me. I just defended myself, Dean. I locked his throat, and, next thing I know, he is not breathing."

Dean sighed long and hard. "God, Cas, how long hasn't he been breathing?"

"I… I don't know. Five minutes? Maybe ten?" The light footsteps suggested Castiel was pacing in anxiety. "I think he's dead."

Chuck's hands flew to cover his mouth. His heart raced, horror-struck. Finally the thing he dreaded most was here: a death in the house.

"Fuck," Dean cussed. "Fuck!"

Fuck indeed.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas cried, panic-ridden in his voice. "I didn't know humans could be so fragile. I barely exerted myself and he was already dead. He didn't even struggle!"

The scrawny inmate shuddered. Castiel talked as if a human being was nothing but an insect that he could hold captive and snatch their lives away with two fingers. Perhaps Chuck had underestimated the complication of his so-called vision. Castiel wouldn't be able to tear this place down if he wasn't capable of taking a life or two, after all.

"Put him on his bed," Dean said after a while. "In the morning, just tell the guards that he slept and never wakes up."

There was only silence after Dean's instruction ended. Chuck strained his ears to hear the tiniest of sound he might be missing, but there was nothing. He guessed everyone was doing the same thing he did: listening in to Dean and Castiel's conversation.

"Cas?"

"Yes, Dean."

"Do as I said. I got this, okay? Don't worry."

"Dean!" Cas protested. "I just killed a man. I can't get away with murder."

Oh, yes, Dean could. Dean killed Alastair and still walked, a known fact that half the prison population had already forgotten and the other half was grateful for.

"I can, Cas," Dean said solemnly. "So could you."

~:~:~

Dean sprinted to Cas' cell as soon as the morning alarm blared and cell gates were open. At the sound of his voice, Cas whipped his head around and ran into his arms. He was trembling. "You alright?" Dean asked while checking for any possible injuries.

Cas simply nodded and snuggled close against Dean, as if to absorb his strength. Some of the inmates threw questioning glances at the two grown men holding on to each other in public, but Dean just glowered at them.

"I'm fine," Cas said at last, giving Dean much-needed relief.

In front of Castiel's new cell, inmates started to crowd. Most of them came to see if his cellmate was really dead. What they discovered, however, was a Ricky Cortez, who was tied by hands and feet to the metal gate, sprawled out, naked.

The Mexican inmate had attacked him as soon as the lights went out and guards retired from their posts in the premises. Castiel had knocked him out smoothly, knowing what was to be expected. He gave him sedatives that Gabriel had stolen from Dr. Sebastian's office, which had put him out through the night. The conversation was Dean's idea, to signal to everyone not to mess with them.

Getting Cortez on the gate was a bitch, tough, as he weighed a ton. Cas had gagged him to prevent him from drawing unnecessarily attention. He had to display his handiwork first; else their effort would be pointless. It seemed to get the desired effect. Right now some dauntless inmates were toying with Cortez's soft dick that hung defenseless in his groin.

"Get the fuck off me!" Cortez screamed his threat after someone removed the gag, but it dripped with so much fear that it only incited more touches from more inmates, who seemed to be overjoyed at the opportunity. The last thing Dean saw was someone poking an unidentified object up his ass. Cortez squealed in agony. Dean turned his attention back to the man in front of him.

"You didn't sleep, did you?" Dean asked, cradling the sides of Cas' face. Cas had bags under his eyes and looked like he would pass out any minute.

Castiel shook his head. Even though he had executed their plan perfectly, it didn't stop him from being on edge. The fear that gripped his heart had kept him wide awake. All he could think of was he wanted to get the hell out of there, and be with Dean.

"Let's get you some shuteye, then," Dean said, pulling Cas away from the scene as prison guards came running in, blowing whistles in an attempt to restore order of the place.

~:~:~

Dean pushed open the door to Dr. Sebastian's office, dragging a tired-looking Cas with him. "Can he crash here for a few hours, please? He didn't sleep at all last night."

"Get him on the bed," Balthazar quickly commanded. He knew Castiel was sent to a new cell last night. Although he disagreed with the order, there was nothing he could do about it. So this morning, he kind of prepared for the worst. "What happened to him?" he asked while giving Castiel a once-over.

"Nothing," Dean quickly replied. "He knocked the guy out, but he was too scared to rest." Cas looked up at him from the bed with a thankful expression, reaching out his hand to Dean's and clasped it. "This is the safest place I know, Doc," Dean continued. "Let him stay, please?"

There was no serious injury on Castiel, only that he looked extremely exhausted, adrenaline draining from him once he was within the safe confines that was Dean Winchester.

"Alright," the doctor resolved. Castiel was his patient, nonetheless. "But you can't stay, Dean."

Dean nodded. It was better for Cas, anyway. If Dean stayed, more trouble might entail.

But Cas held on to Dean's hand tighter. "Can he stay," he rasped, "until I fall asleep, please?"

Balthazar looked between the two. Castiel had his best puppy dog eyes on, Dean trying to match him. "Fine," he said with a sigh, wondering who could say no to them.

Once they were alone, Dean sat on the chair by the bed. Cas curled into a fetal position, keeping Dean's hand between the side of his face and the pillow. A warm smile pulled up his cheek, curbing it against Dean's palm.

"How did I do?" he asked with a giddy enthusiasm of a tired out child, waiting for a commendation from his parents after a long day.

"You were awesome," Dean affirmed in kind, his free hand stroking the soft, unruly brown hair he had come to love.

"So I'm not your weakness anymore," Cas mumbled feebly as his breath evened out and he fell into a restful sleep, Dean's gentle caresses his sweet lullaby.

Dean let a couple of tears run down his face. The weakness was _him_ , who couldn't save the only one he needed to save. _Him_ , who couldn't, for the life of him, keep his feelings under lock and key. Instead, he exposed them, laid them out in the open, making himself and the person he cared vulnerable. Dean was so weak that Cas had to step out of his comfort zone and fight for the one thing Dean should be able to defend by himself. Cas stood up for them, and, in turn, gave him strength.

"Thank you, love," Dean breathed as his lips pressed tenderly against Cas' temple; droplets of tears disappeared into Cas' ruffled hair.

~:~:~

Castiel had only a few hours of sleep, before lunchtime rolled around and Dr. Sebastian gently told him he had to be discharged. He didn't want to officially register Castiel and risk riling the-powers-that-be in the process. As a result, the doctor could not place an order for his patient's meal. However, Castiel was welcome to come back after lunch if that was what he preferred.

A prison guard led Castiel out of the infirmary. He kept his gaze down the whole way, watching but not seeing as one foot stepped in front of the other along the cream-colored tiled floor. He didn't notice when the turns were wrong until eventually he was met with the one person he dreaded.

"Hello, Castiel" A creepily familiar voice snapped Castiel back to where he was.

"Lucifer—" Castiel gasped. His throat went parched as his heartbeat sped up in his chest. He tried to mask the fright that was draining blood from his face and shutting down his brain, all to no avail. His legs refused to function, but when Lucifer crept into his personal space, he drew back until he hit the wall.

"I miss you so bad," Lucifer purred, dragging his forefinger along the side of Castiel's face. Cas knew he should fight back, take him down once and for all. But, face-to-face with the Devil himself, all his courage flew out the window faster than the speed of light. His presence alone made his knees shaky, threatening to give out on him.

Lucifer inched closer to his petrified countenance, inhaling long and deep, Castiel's fear flowery to his senses. "I would take my sweet time with you, angel," he crooned. "Only there is a more pressing matter."

Castiel's breath hitched at the glimpse of hope that he would not be attacked this time. Lucifer smirked knowingly. He demanded, "I hate the hotbox. I want out. Tell Dean not to lay a finger on me, and I'll get you two lovebirds back in the same cage."

"I can't do that," Castiel replied without missing a beat. He had told Dean he would have nothing to do with Lucifer from now on. He intended to keep his promise.

His response got Lucifer to bark an evil laugh. "And here I thought you wanted to spend the rest of your days together! Fuck if I care then. At least I'm sure my sanity will survive the period of two weeks. All I have to do is planning how I'll be enjoying my days and nights with you after that, _darling_."

Cas' eyebrows knitted into a frown. He had no idea what Lucifer was babbling about. Castiel knew better than to show his confusion, but he was never a good liar to begin with.

"You don't know, do you?" A smirk came back on Lucifer's face. Something that Lucifer knew, and he didn't, was never good. "And I'm telling you this out of the goodness of my own heart. Dean will be transferred to the State Penitentiary in less than two weeks. You can spend the next twelve nights bouncing from cell to cell, or with Dean. The choice is yours."

~:~:~


	17. Will We Ever Learn?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The decision Castiel made, and its consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional chapter warnings: Unpleasant, dub-con bj. I'm sorry.

Dean had his arms around Castiel the moment the cell gate slid shut. It was the last call of the day. After several nights spent in separate, different places, they were finally back together in their tiny, rancid cage which Castiel had learned to call home.

He had missed this. He had, but he never realized how bad until he felt Dean's deep but uneven breathing against his ear.

"Dean," he croaked. Dean's tight embrace was choking the air out of his lungs. Even so, Castiel kept his hands at his sides. He was not sure if he should return the gesture or push Dean away. It was getting a little difficult to breathe.

"Shut up," Dean snapped, but not unkindly. He took another deep breath and tightened his hold. Castiel sensed the urge to gasp for air, but he decided he could endure it a while longer.

Dean gave him a final squeeze and two pats on his back. "I'm glad we're back together," he muttered with relief, releasing Cas from his confines.

Castiel swayed a little forward as Dean backed away from him, already missing the warmth. A pang of melancholy assailed Cas as he wished, a little too late, to reciprocate the hug.

"So," Dean exclaimed, clasping his hands and rubbing them as he had no idea how he should proceed. After everything that had happened, Dean doubted they could go back to the way they were. The fact that Cas did not hug him back did not go unnoticed.

Just as Dean was wondering if he should climb up to his top bed, alone, something came over Castiel. He shoved Dean hard against the cell gate. The sheer force wrung out from Dean a pained, if not surprised, groan.

Full lips crushed his almost immediately after. Dean was stunned, only for a split second, before he had his arms around the other man's waist, a lopsided smile on his face. He loved Cas' little imposition. Castiel, on the other hand, couldn't understand why Dean would have a smug grin on his lips, and tried to nip it away, his hand lightly cradling Dean's face.

He shifted his legs, knowing Dean would appreciate a little nudge at his groin. True to his thought, Dean gasped into their heated kisses, helplessly thrusting his hips forward, chasing that delicious friction. The kisses became more bruising as one of Cas' hands tugged Dean's cropped hair at the base of his neck, the other pulling at the side of his head. Castiel pressed hard into the man in front of him; the iron bars searing against Dean's back muscles.

"Easy, tiger," Dean heaved. Castiel was now nuzzling under his jaw, his chapped lips nibbled on Dean's skin, alternating with little licks and suckles that had Dean giving out faint whimpers. "It's not even lights out."

"Can't wait," Castiel grumbled low in his throat, its vibration sending Dean weak in the knees. They had wasted enough time. Castiel wasn't going to repeat the same mistakes now that they were back together, after so much loss.

"Tell me," Castiel growled close to Dean's ear, so close Dean could feel that luscious mouth move against his ear lobe. "Did you mean what you said, when you said that you are mine, all of you, that I am free to do with you anyway I please?"

Cas dragged his palm, agonizingly slow and firm, along the inside of Dean's thigh while punching out those words. Dean's legs practically shook the higher up that hand went. Unabashed, he stuttered out a 'yes' and 'Cas' and 'please'.

Humming his approval, Castiel skirted around the bulge in Dean's crotch. Dean whined meekly at the negligence. But then Cas' lips were on his again, an amused chuckle on that angelic face as his hands slid under Dean's shirt. The palms rubbed over Dean's skin, little by little dragging the shirt up with them and pulling it over Dean's head in deliberate torment. When his arms were finally free, Dean immediately whirled them around so he could pin Cas against the wall.

"No!" Cas snarled, shoving Dean back where he was. Dean was dazzled by Cas' display of control; his cock twitched in thrilled anticipation.

Satisfied that Dean remained still where he wanted him to be, Castiel pulled away enough to study the plane of Dean's chest under the white neon light. He ran his forefinger among droplets of sweat that glazed the tanned muscles and the inked tattoo, creating absent shapes that somehow saddened him. Dean's collarbones were sharp, his shoulders firm and his biceps a handsome bulge that would make any woman weep. Dean Winchester was a god; Castiel was nothing compared to him. He couldn't see why someone so beautiful and flawless would choose to be with someone so plain — and tainted — like him.

"Cas, why don't we go lie down for a while?"

Dean's gentle voice jolted him out of the trance he didn't know he had fallen into. Dean was nudging at his elbow, so Castiel gave a small nod then headed to his bunk.

They settled in their places: Dean on his back; Castiel curled up by his side, resting his head against Dean's shoulder, one arm draped over Dean's naked waist. One of Dean's hands drew loose swirls on Cas' back as he recounted stories from his childhood, something about he and his brother leaving soldier figures in their father's car. Castiel was sure he had heard it before, but he wouldn't mind hearing it again and again. Dean's voice, alive and animated, was music to his ears.

He would have been contented with it, their easy settlement, but when the main light went out, Castiel flinched. It marked the first night of their very few nights left together. It could be their last if he couldn't keep the deal he had made with Lucifer. So Castiel started nuzzling the crook of Dean's neck, grateful that Dean had granted him permission. He had wanted to do this for a long, long time.

When Cas' tongue rolled along the shell of his ear, Dean sucked in his breath; his story long discontinued. He knew he should say they didn't have to do this, that they could wait until Cas was _really_ ready, but the stubble burn was so pleasantly steamy that his words came out in incoherent puffs and nothing more.

Then Cas got up and placed his knees by both sides of Dean's waist, his ass up in the air as he bent down to suck at the pulse point on his neck. An appreciative moan escaped Dean's lips as he tried, craftily, to expose more of his skin. His hands flew to Cas' shirt, tugging him down for some desperate friction.

Frustrated, Castiel groaned, removing Dean's hands and pinning them above his head while fumbling for something to tie them with. He wanted to move at his own pace, but Dean's hands were too many, too demanding.

"Cas, please, don't tie me up." Dean wriggled against Cas' hold. "I want to touch you."

Softened by pleading green eyes, Castiel let go of Dean's wrists to cup his face. "Just for a moment, okay?" he cooed.

The way Cas looked at him was so calm, and confident, and _loving_ , that all Dean could do was give in to it. He lightly nodded his consent. If Cas wanted to take control of this game, Dean would not deny him his heart's desires.

Giving Dean a peck on the lips, Cas then tied Dean up nicely. He began mapping Dean's skin, touching and feeling every inch of it with the tip of his tongue or the palms of his hands. He stuck in his mind those spots that had Dean writhing against his hold, the same way Dean did to him the first night they met.

Now he understood why Dean had taken the time to do what he did. The more attention he paid to those over-sensitized areas, the more aroused Dean became. Castiel studied Dean's responses like a diligent schoolboy, intended not only to pass his exam, but to excel in it. By the time he was done, Dean was a whimpering mess. A dark, wet pool formed at the front of his trousers. His bulge curved gracefully along his groin.

Castiel carefully peeled off the fabric, and was in awe at what he saw. Dean's erection was in perfect size and shape, and put his own to shame. Now Castiel could not remember why he hadn't done it earlier. It had been foolish of him to vow not to touch Dean. If he had known how impeccable Dean was, he would have ended their relationship while he still had the chance.

"You're thinking too much, Cas." Dean cut his train of crippling thoughts. "Come here. Untie me and give me a kiss."

And Cas went, willingly, like a moth to a flame, even if it meant imminent death. Maybe it was the brightness that attracted him, but every time Dean told him to kiss, Castiel was sure it was the warmth that lured him in.

Once he let Dean free of his restraint, he was pulled into a familiar, tender kiss. Castiel relaxed into Dean's arms and sighed a dreamy sigh into their locked lips. He rested his weight on his left elbow, half of his body sprawled over Dean's right side. Dean's hand slithered along Cas' right arm that rested on his chest. When it reached Cas' hand, he gently guided it down, and further down.

Castiel gasped when his palm was placed on Dean's cock, breaking the kiss. Dean shushed him and carefully curled Cas' fingers around his girth. Castiel could feel the weight of it bear down on him — not just the physical weight, but also the burden that came with it, the load of what it meant now that they were getting intimate.

"Cas," Dean murmured, jolting Cas back to the matter at hand. He subtly moved in Cas' fist. "Please"

Shaking his thoughts away, Castiel moved his hand up and down Dean's length in earnest, the way he liked being done to himself. Looking up at Dean's face, he saw his eyes lidded; his lips parted in contented purrs. When Cas flicked his wrist to massage the head and thumb the slit, he could feel Dean dig his fingers onto the back of his shoulder and puff out shaky groans.

So he repeated his motions. Castiel watched with fascination as pre-cum steadily oozed out, easing his rapid caresses. Dean squirmed prettily beneath him, his moans more and more unrestrained as Cas worked the now swollen and red cock in his hand.

He bent down to suck the sensitive spot on the soft flesh below Dean's shoulder; causing Dean to jerk his hips, more pre-cum wetted his erection. At this moment, Cas wanted nothing more than to taste the viscous fluid, to see how it would feel on the pad of his tongue.

"Please tell me you're clean," Castiel whined behind Dean's ear, his hand never stopped moving up and down and around Dean's hard-on. "I want to put my lips on you, Dean. Please tell me you're clean."

Dean swore he could explode by those obscene mewls alone. They had their initial results back from Dr. Balthazar. The good news was they were clean from all sexually transmitted diseases. Still, there were some that needed at least six months to be absolutely positive. But Castiel was begging so nicely, his strokes firm and needy on his cock. Dean could only imagine how much nicer it would feel to have it enshrouded in the wetness of Cas' throat.

As Cas pleaded more, Dean nodded. He hadn't been with anyone since he was incarcerated. He could safely say he was clean.

Castiel eagerly got up and dragged his tongue along the underside of Dean's cock, sending silent prayers of thanks high above that Dean didn't taste too bad. He looked up to Dean for feedback. When Dean lightly nodded, he pressed his lips where the milky liquid came out and sucked at it like a baby, before letting the head slip into his mouth.

He watched as Dean threw his head back and groaned freely. Castiel was glad Dean didn't buck his hips, but pinned them down nonetheless. He tried to slide his lips lower and take in more of Dean's length, only to find it was not as simple as it seemed. Tears pricked at his eyes as his airway got clogged. He never appreciated what his wife had done for him as much as he did now.

"Breathe through your nose, Cas," Dean instructed. He had his hands on Cas' head, but he wasn't pushing. He just ran his fingers through his hair and gave encouraging moans as Castiel bobbed his head up and down. There wasn't much he could take, so he covered the remaining length with his fingers. He tried to increase the pace, but started to regret asking Dean for it. He wasn't good. There was no way he could get Dean off with his half-ass blowjob. His jaw hurt, and he was beginning to think it might be better if he'd just let Dean fuck his face.

"Cas, I'm going to—"

Castiel was harshly pulled away and Dean took over, giving his cock some quick tugs. Soon white, slimy substance erupted from him, which marked Castiel's relief.

Dean had a blissful grin on his face after he emptied his load. He pulled Cas into a kiss, moaning. Castiel thought it was because he tasted like Dean. He hoped it wasn't all bad. But when he felt Dean's hand on him, he swiftly backed away.

"Cas, you're not—"

Castiel wasn't sure his face could get any redder than it was right now. It was utterly embarrassing. He should have felt something. He knew Dean had come, untouched, those many times Dean came on to him. It shouldn't be any different, but instead, his cock was as flaccid as the day he was born.

"It's fine, Cas. Come here." With that, Dean pulled him into a hug and kissed the top of his head as Castiel lay down next to him. Dean was always like this: tender, and understanding. Castiel had no idea what he had done to deserve him.

Dean quickly cleaned himself. When he finished, he cupped Cas' cheeks and pecked his lips. "Thank you," he said, locking their eyes. His smile was warm and radiant. "That was amazing."

"I—" Castiel spluttered. He tried to avert his gaze but Dean wouldn't let him. "I was not good," he mumbled.

Dean laughed, then kissed away the cute, bemused look on Cas' face. "I almost blew my load in your mouth, Cas," he explained cockily. "You _are_ good."

But Cas still tried to avoid his eyes; his forehead furrowed and Dean had no idea why. "Hey," Dean made a guess, though he fervently hoped it was not the case. The idea of him forcing himself on Cas was beyond sickening. "You know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right?"

Cas quietly nodded, much to Dean's relief. "I wanted to," he said weakly, "but I wasn't any good. I'm not good enough for—"

Dean silenced him with a kiss. "I just told you. You were good. Why don't you accept my word?" he questioned, crestfallen, but, looking at the guilty look on Cas' face, he gave up. "Alright, fine. Skills come with practice. I'm pretty sure I'll be happy to help you with that," he said with a wink.

Castiel beamed, but then quickly deflated. He suddenly remembered why he did what he did. They didn't have time for practice. They wouldn't even have time for anything if he couldn't keep his share of the deal.

"Dean," he tentatively asked. "Can you do something for me?"

Dean gave a small chuckle. "Anything," he replied simply.

Castiel felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest. There was no way around it, so he could only pray Dean wouldn't get too mad. "Can you leave Lucifer be?"

"What? No!" Dean winced. "Why are we talking about this again?"

Castiel climbed on top of him, pinning Dean down. "Because…" He dragged on, struggling to come up with something agreeable. "I just want you to focus on us. We're back together now. Nothing else matters, does it?"

Dean traced his thumb on the bristles over Cas' face, smiling when Castiel inclined his head towards it. "I'd want that too," he crooned. "But I told you. We live in a hostile setting. If I don't do anything about it, it'll never stop."

"No, you don't understand." Cas shook his head furiously. Soon there would be no 'we' to begin with. He just wanted to make the most of their very little time left. Even if he didn't strike a deal with Lucifer, he'd rather spend those remaining hours with Dean than to plot revenge. Why couldn't Dean see it?

"What is it, Cas? What's the matter?" Dean asked. Cas' strange behavior had gotten him worried.

"You're leaving!" Cas blurted. "When do you plan to tell me that?"

"What are you saying, Cas? Who told you I'm leaving?"

"Don't lie to me, Dean. I checked. You'll be transferred in two weeks!"

Dean could see Cas was shaking with anger, so he carefully calmed him down. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," he said. "The transfer order is true, but I don't plan on leaving. Sam is finding a way to help me."

The fact of the matter was, Dean had no idea what would become of them, but it was still too early to think that they would be separated, never to see each other again. One thing he was certain of, was that he would not leave Cas on his own, defenseless.

"Who told you about the transfer?" he pressed on when Cas said nothing. Only he and his brother knew about it, and Crowley, Dean thought with horror. "Did Crowley get to you?"

Cas frowned. "What does the warden have to do with anything?"

Dean did a mental calculation. If it wasn't Crowley, then it must be… "Oh God, it was Lucifer, wasn't it?" Dean groaned. Lucifer was still in the hotbox, as far as Dean knew. But that Cas did not deny it, was enough answer in itself.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean wailed. "I told you to stay away from him. Why were you even talking to him at all?"

"Because I have no choice, okay?" Cas protested. "You were leaving, and I'd rather spend the nights with you than in some pervert's cell!"

Dean frowned as he tried to sew the bits and pieces Cas had given him together. "Are you saying that," and Dean hoped to God that his assumption was wrong, "that us being back together was his doing?"

Again, Cas went silence. Dean never felt so irate at his incompetence. He tried to get Cas back to his cell. God knew he did, but it was beyond his powers. Apparently, it wasn't beyond Lucifer's. And now, because of his own impotence, Lucifer had leverage over them.

"What have you done, Cas? What did he ask of you in return?"

"That you would not lay a finger on him," Cas mumbled softly, his eyes downcast.

 _Fuck._ Dean inwardly cursed as Cas got up from above him and cowered against the wall, as if to avoid Dean's wrath. Cas should have known Dean wouldn't be okay with it. There was only one thing he'd ever asked of Cas. One thing! That he'd stay away from Lucifer. But Cas not only did not keep his promise; he had to go and made a deal with the Devil! He knew how furious Dean would be, and yet he still—

"Oh, no, fucking no. Don't tell me you just—"

Dean couldn't get the repulsive words past his lips. It all made sense now why Cas wanted to do something he clearly wasn't ready. Why he would ask something impossible of him, after he was _sated_.

"You know what? I'm done with this shit," Dean hissed, moving out of his bed. Cas looked up at him, wide-eyed. "You used me, over and over, and I never minded it. I never did. You know why? Because I thought what we had was genuine! I thought that, even though you never felt the same way I do, you'd at least value our relationship!"

"Dean, no—"

"You made me force myself on you, Cas! How could you do that to me, after what we've been through? Me! Of all people! You've hurt me worse than anyone ever did, and I've had my fair share of hurt!"

Cas wanted to say he was sorry, that he, too, loved Dean, so much so that he went out of his way to break his promise. But Dean was already on his top bed, face buried in his pillow; so Cas swallowed his words of apologies down his throat. Instead, he flopped down on his bed, and cried.

Even though the sound was muffled, Dean knew Cas was crying, hard. He had witnessed Cas crying so many times he could easily see how his shoulders would shake against the mattress or how red and puffy his nose would be. He wished he could get over himself, get down there, tell Cas he was sorry and comfort him. He knew it was partly his fault, that if he did have the power to keep Cas and himself in the same cell, none of this would have happened.

He listened to Cas crying until Cas fell asleep. Maybe what kept him from going down wasn't that he couldn't forgive Cas. Maybe it was because he couldn't forgive himself.

~:~:~

The room was dark. He wasn't even sure if it was a room or if it was just a space in black — shiny black, because there was a ray of light streaming in the center. But that was all he could see from his line of sight.

"Castiel"

He turned at the familiar voice, and was stunned breathless. His sister, unblemished and beautiful, was dressed in a white gown with an embroidered bodice and train, a soft glow illuminating around her.

"Anna," he breathed. It wasn't until his sister asked for his hand that he noticed that he, too, was dressed in a black tuxedo, something he was certain he never owed or wore.

"Dance with me?"

"Y- You know I don't dance," he stuttered.

Anna smiled warmly at her brother. She took his hand and straightened her shoulders. "What does it matter?" she spoke softly, arranging their stances. "There're a lot of things you've never done in life, big brother. At some point in time, sooner or later, you'll have to start doing it."

They now stood ready, her left hand holding his right, the other curling protectively around his waist. Castiel placed his free hand on her shoulder, his body tense.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, lifting her chin up, inviting confidence.

Castiel swallowed his nervousness. His fingers twitched in his sister's hand, impelling him to hold on to her tighter. He gave a measured nod.

Anna pulled their bodies close. She whispered next to his ear, "Follow my lead," and moved.

No music could be heard, Castiel noticed. After a few clumsy steps, he started to get the hang of it. Anna was sure in her pace, her back erect, and elbows pointing to the sides. Her smile grew wider when they fell into easy rhythms.

"I've missed you, brother."

Castiel pursed his lips; preventing himself from saying he missed her too. He knew none of this was real, that he was dreaming, and that her words were merely a projection of his thoughts. There was no point repeating it.

What confused him, however, was the fact that it was the first time he had such a dream. Whenever he dreamed of his sister, it was always the younger version of her. At least, the little girl first, and then the adult. Never once did it started with the grown-up. He wondered where the little girl went.

"You're thinking too much," Anna said with quiet chuckles as she moved left, forward, and right. Castiel was surprised he could move along with her in perfect synchronization without stepping on her dress or embarrassing himself.

"Why are you here?" he asked bluntly now that he realized, again, that it was just a dream. So what if he could dance in a dream?

"I just want to make sure that you are happy," she replied before spinning him around and catching him again when he returned with a small _oomph_. Her eyes glinted with amusement.

"I am," he exclaimed as they continued their waltz. He couldn't see why he shouldn't be happy.

"Are you?" his sister inquired with a knowing look.

Well, he had been happy, until he made a terrible mistake. One that, even though he knew Dean would never forgive him, he still did, and was now living the consequences.

"I've made stupid mistakes, _grave_ mistakes, over and over." His sister's voice brought Castiel back to his dream; their rocking cadence a soothing harmony. "Yet you never fail to forgive me. Why is that?"

The answer was simple and clear. "You know I love you."

Anna nodded in acknowledgement. "And Dean, you. He _will_ forgive you."

"You don't know that," Castiel grumbled, looking away from her.

Their steps slowly came to a halt. Even without looking, Cas could hear her affectionate smile in her voice. "I know you love me because you forgive me. You'll know Dean loves you when he forgives you." But when he still refused to look at her, she cupped his cheek and mildly turned his head. Her voice was stern when she asked, "The question is, Castiel, do you forgive yourself?"

Cas repeated the question in his head, and could not conjure an answer. What did he have to forgive himself for, to begin with? What was it that Anna saw, but he couldn't see?

"I'm tired. Can we rest a bit?" Anna suggested.

He gingerly set his sister down on a bed and sat by her side. She looked ill and frail, her usual sparkle drained from her countenance. Cas held her hand. This was way worse than the last time he saw her in person.

"You have to let me go," she said feebly.

Castiel shushed her. "No, you are not going anywhere." He wasn't going to let anything bad happen to her. It was his job to make sure she stayed safe and was well taken care of.

"You have Dean now. You'll be fine."

Shaking his head, Cas refused firmly. "No"

"Do you love him?"

"I—" he opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it. Most of the time he _felt_ like he loved Dean, but it could be nothing more than a physical attraction. More often than not, he was too scared to let himself love, or be loved.

"I— I don't know. I don't know what love is."

That much was true. He wasn't sure if he had ever loved anyone romantically in his life, not even his wife. Daphne happened more out of convenience. She had come when he needed an escape. Their time together was companionable, their departure a mutual deliverance.

"Different people define love differently. You have to define one for yourself," Anna offered her words of wisdom. "Why don't you let Dean know? Maybe he'll help you define yours."

"No, Anna." He shook his head. "I need you." At least with her, it was easier, straightforward. She was his sister, and because of that, he loved her. End of story.

"I don't need you anymore, Castiel. I'm all grown up now. You can let me go."

"No!" Cas bellowed. He started to shake, with fear, or anger, he couldn't pinpoint. Of course, his sister couldn't mean that, could she? How could she not need him? He needed her. They needed each other.

"I love you, brother." Anna placed a hand on his cheek, brushing tears that he didn't realize were forming. "I love you and I have forgiven you — for what happened, to us, to our family, even though it was never your fault. It's time you forgive yourself, Castiel, and be happy with the person who cares for you as much as I do, if not more."

Castiel wiped the tears away with the back of his hands. This was like saying goodbye. He didn't want to say goodbye. "Please, Anna! Why can't you stay? Why can't you both stay? Why do I have to choose?"

Anna placed a hand on Castiel's heart. He clutched at it. "There will come a time when you don't have to," she said warmly.

Her small smile was compassionate, though Castiel could only see it dimly through his tear-filled eyes. Or maybe she was really fading away.

"No, Anna! Don't go!" He tried to take hold of her, but her body was now translucent. The hand that he was clutching dispersed into specks of dust.

"Anna!"

~:~:~

Castiel startled awake. His heart raced and he was drenched in sweat. Dean appeared in his vision at once.

"Oh my God, Cas. You alright?"

Dean yanked him into a tight hug, making the air hot and damp, but Castiel couldn't find the strength to voice his displeasure.

"I called you, so many times. I shook you, but you just wouldn't wake up." Dean's voice was dripping with panic. His hands, if not pulling him into a choking embrace, were roaming all over his body, as if to see if he was still in one piece. "God, I'm so sorry, Cas. You tossed and turned and cried. I've never seen it this bad. I'm so sorry. I thought I would lose you. I shouldn't get mad at you like that. I'm so sorry. I was an idiot. It will never happen again. I'm sorry."

Castiel did not go to sleep again that night. He and Dean just sat against the headboard, leaning onto each other, the dream still vivid in his mind. At some point in time, Dean dozed off. Castiel observed those long eyelashes, freckled cheeks and slightly parted lips, until Dean came to. Dean snuggled closer to him, placing his head on Castiel's shoulder; arm and leg slung over, trapping him. He mumbled something about not letting Cas go, and fell asleep again.

Dean was fully awake sometime at dawn, and he kept alternating between pecking Cas' cheek and nuzzling his neck, for some reason. When the morning alarm blared, Castiel didn't jump as he usually did and he refused to move out of bed. It took Dean a ton of begging and persuasion before Castiel eventually followed Dean to the shower area and then the canteen and back.

Cas did not say a word since he woke up from his nightmare. Dean was tempted to take his cellmate to the infirmary, to have Dr. Balthazar check whether his larynx was still functioning or that he didn't suffer some kind of post traumatic dream disorder.

But then Castiel was called for a visitor, to their shocking surprises. Castiel never had a visitor. Dean was dying to go and see who his caller might be, but decided against it. Then he reasoned to himself that a peek would not hurt. He was _the_ shutcall, after all. He had the right to know everything that was going on in their pen. But then his conscience kicked in and reminded him not to do anything stupid again. At least not to Cas.

When Cas came back, long moments later, his face was blank. Whatever little expression he might have had after the nightmare, was all gone from his face now. Dean came up to him but Cas didn't seem to notice anything beyond his nose. When Cas at last sensed that there was another person with him, this was the first thing he said.

"Dean, let's get out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who are still reading this, I deeply apologize for the long absence and the chapter that didn't quite fit the holiday spirit. The next one should be out sooner, but until then, Happy Holidays!


	18. My Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected visitor, unforeseen revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional chapter warnings:** off-screen minor character death; mentions of past Cas/Daphne in graphic details; kind of top-from-bottom!Dean; and a few cheesy lines, or more
> 
>  **A/N:** Thank you for your reviews!

"Dean, let's get out of here."

The words hit Dean like a freight train coming at full speed, carrying with it a lungful of hope Dean had painfully abandoned not-so-long ago. But the little freak-out look on Cas' face brought Dean to immediate reality and had Dean collect himself.

"Slow down. What's going on?"

Cas wouldn't answer his question, so Dean decided to plop on the bed, tugging Cas down with him. Cas could have collapsed, it seemed.

"What happened?" Dean repeated when Cas sat himself next to him; his eyes fixated on his dangling feet. "Who was your visitor?"

But Cas pursed his lips shut. His face scrunched up as if he was hurt. Dean tentatively placed a hand on his arm. That was when Cas threw himself at Dean, almost knocking him back on the mattress.

"Whoa, okay, wait," Dean cried. He carefully scurried up the bed and braced his back against the wall, beckoning Cas to scoot over. Cas straddled his lap and leaned down to slot his arms around Dean's torso, placing his head on Dean's shoulders. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas' back, holding him loosely.

The way Cas wriggled into him let Dean know Cas was upset. Soon enough, he broke into quiet sobs. Anyway it was better than an impassive Cas. Whoever came to visit him must have come bringing bad news. Dean could only guess while soothing Cas through it, whispering words of comfort and urging him to 'let it all out'.

When Cas quieted down somewhat, Dean gently nudged again. "Come on, Cas, talk to me. Who was your visitor?"

Cas wiped his face on Dean's shirt. His voice was barely audible when he told Dean about his visitor, Rufus, a guy who had been working with his family for a very long time. Rufus came bearing the news of his sister's death.

"Oh, Cas, I'm so sorry," Dean said softly, heartbroken.

"What am I going to do, Dean?" Cas wailed in agony, his hands clutching Dean's shirt like a lifeline. "Anna's dead. She's gone and I'll never get to see her again. I thought I would see her again when this is all over, but she's gone. She's gone."

Cas' voice became louder, broken, his words incoherent as he grieved, "Everyone I loved has left me. First my parents and now her; I have no one left. There's no one left, Dean. My family, they are all gone. They left me alone. Why didn't they take me with them?"

"Don't say that," Dean shushed him, terrified at the thought of losing his beloved. "I'm here, Cas. I'm here. You still have me. I'll be your family, okay? I'll never leave you. I'll be your family."

He could only imagine being in Cas' shoes. His parents were gone, too, but at least he still had Sam. But he wanted Cas to see it. Cas needed to see that Dean was never going to leave him. That if Cas was lost, Dean was going to kill his way to find him and bring him back.

Dean's shirt was soaked and dirty, but he couldn't care less. He let Cas cry onto him, raking his fingers through Cas' hair and humming soothing nonsense. Dean's heart ached at all the series of misfortunes bestowed on his cellmate. It was bad enough that he had lost his parents; his sister went nuts, him being incarcerated and then assaulted, only to find his only family gone without getting to say goodbye. Dean had thought _his life_ was bad, but it was nothing compared to Castiel's.

Cas sniffed one last time before straightening up, wiping his wet face with the back of his hands. "Did you just propose to me?" he mumbled.

Dean gawked. "What?"

"I don't see how else you can be my family," Cas replied, his voice thick and nasal from crying too hard. "Unless you want to be my brother?"

"No! Hell, no," Dean shot back, a little too quickly. He was so not fucking his brother. That one thing he was sure.

"Well?" Cas kept staring back at Dean, expecting some answers.

Dean let himself entertain the idea: he and Cas in suits, at the altar, exchanging rings. He might have liked that image more than he should.

"What if I did?" Dean tried with a sheepish look on his face. He didn't exactly have a marriage proposal in mind when he said he would be Cas' family, but it was worth a shot.

"Can we do that here?" Cas asked. He furrowed his forehead and narrowed his swollen eyes. Dean thought Cas would be more flabbergasted, but instead he seemed genuinely intrigued.

"Well, it's not like anyone needs to know that, but us," Dean replied, lacing their fingers together to keep himself from blushing. He should have known by now that this tactic never worked. "And our family. Sam will be your family, too. So he has to know."

Cas' face scrunched up again.

"Is that a yes, or are you having a cramp?" Dean playfully poked at his ribs, still not letting go of Cas' hand. He knew Cas was starting to have another bout of crying fit, so he tried to come up with something, he hoped, amusing.

It worked. Cas failed to stifle a laugh, so it came out as a half-snort, half-choke, before it broke into a timid smile. Dean couldn't help meeting it with a face-splitting grin.

"Would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?"

The words sprinted out of Dean's mouth faster than he could catch it. Cas' smile had made him heady. Even so, he meant every single word of it.

"It's not like I can go anywhere if I want," Cas mewled with a shy smile.

"Ouch!" Dean dramatically clutched his heart, in doing so tugging Cas towards him by their interlaced fingers. Cas' face was mere inches away, his features damp, rosy and puffy: traces that suggested grief was evidenced. A sight so endearing Dean wanted to imprint into his mind, but never wanted it repeated.

Dean recited the marriage vow in his heart — for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. He didn't have a ring to vouch for his promise, but he sealed it with a kiss.

 

~:~:~

"Why don't you tell me about your sister?" Dean asked, turning his head to the man behind him. Right now he was sitting between Cas' legs, back to chest. Cas was leaning against the headboard. 'I want to hold someone in my arms,' Cas had said. That was how they ended up in this position. "You rarely talk about her. And now I don't have a chance to meet her in person, so…"

Cas leaned his head on Dean's, holding him tighter and slightly rocking them. It was some time later that he began. "She was very much like you," he recalled nostalgically. "Beautiful, passionate, and she loved fiercely, just like you do."

Maybe that was why Castiel was so drawn to Dean, enthralled even. He secretly craved someone who loved like his sister did: possessive and overprotective, selfish and yet selfless.

"We were very close since as far back as I remember," he continued. "Too close for anyone's comfort."

Then he went on about how smart his sister was, so much so that their parents decided to send her to a medical school. They went to the same university so they could share an apartment. That was how close they were.

By the time Castiel was in his third year, Anna had already finished her pre-med. But being a doctor was never something she wanted. He couldn't stand seeing his sister unhappy. So, when he graduated, he convinced her to drop out and move to Sacramento with him. Anna loved to cook, so they agreed on opening a restaurant where Castiel helped in accounts, which was the major he studied.

Then Cas went silent. Dean wanted to prompt him for some more. That was the longest Cas had ever spoken of his family. Dean felt like he was getting to know them — and him — better.

"Dean," Cas rumbled low in his throat. He sounded troubled. "There're some things that I want to share with you, that you may find," he searched for the right word, "uncomfortable."

Dean told Cas to carry on.

"My sister, she didn't take too kindly to outside relationships," Cas blurted and Dean nodded. That was something Dean could relate. "I once had a girlfriend in high school. When Anna learned of it, she went," again, Castiel fumbled for a word, "mad. It didn't work out anyway, my girlfriend and I. So after a while, we broke up. I never had another since."

There was a wistful tone in the way Cas talked about it, Dean observed, but he could be wrong. Cas let out a small sigh, then resumed, "Life went on, happily. It wasn't until people started to notice that we both were single adults and started asking prying questions, that I realized our relationship wasn't healthy by any means."

Dean knew all too well how quick people could jump to conclusion. Too many times people simply assumed he and Sam were lovers, and, more often than not, they were too tired to correct it.

Then a thought hit him.

"Did you, uh,—" Dean stumbled, not knowing how to raise the issue without leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

On the contrary, it didn't seem to faze Castiel. "Did we have sexual relations?" he voiced the unspoken question for Dean. "No, I wouldn't do that to my sister, though that might be the only thing we did not do. Anna never had a boyfriend. She said she had me, and that was enough."

Then Cas talked about Daphne, how she came along and they hit it off. He saw her as a means to escape from that kind of life, so he quitted the restaurant and moved out. Needless to say, that caused fallout in their relationship. Anna even declined his wedding invitation. But he had to do it, for her, and for himself.

But his marriage didn't last. They enjoyed their time together, but even Daphne knew something was missing. They parted ways, on good terms. Anna started talking to him again, though he didn't go back to that former life. He took a job as a teacher, and Dean knew the rest of the story.

When Cas stopped, Dean tried to recall what 'the rest of the story' was. He knew Cas and his sister drove up to visit their parents one day. Their car broke. Mom and Dad got killed. Then Cas killed some people who seemed to have killed Cas' parents. And he was here because of that. But Cas had been so adamant not to leave this place before. What changed?

"Cas," Dean called, looking back at the man behind him. "Do you still want to leave this place?"

"Yes, Dean," he gave a firm reply. "What are the plans?"

"Why now? I asked you many times. You never agreed to leave."

"Does it matter?" Cas asked coldly.

"I think I have that much right to know if I'm going to let you in on my plans, don't I?"

Fair enough, Castiel thought. Escaping prison must be one hell of a confidential scheme. He might as well let Dean in on one of his own — not that his secret mattered anymore.

He needed as much strength as he could get to talk about this, so Castiel moved to let Dean sit against the headboard instead. Then he sat himself between Dean's legs, his right side leaning on Dean's body. He flung his legs over Dean's right one, having Dean wrapped his arms around him.

Castiel exhaled in relief when he felt Dean's warmth envelop him. The way their bodies always correspond so perfectly let him know he had finally found a welcoming home.

"What I am going to tell you," he sighed. "You must promise me that you'll never bring it up again, not to me, not to anyone."

His parents' death, Cas started after Dean gave him his word, sort of stretched the already strained relationship between him and his sister. There weren't many leads the police could work on the case, and Anna was very frustrated about it. Castiel, on the other hand, believed in the system. He told her as such, but his sister, hasty as she was, wanted to take matters into her own hands.

So one day when FBI showed up at his doorsteps, he kind of knew what went down. Anna was angry at him for doing nothing, and held him responsible for it, quite literally. Castiel accepted all the charges. He'd rather get himself locked up than have anyone taken her. The sad part was that, he kind of lost her since. He guessed plotting and committing murder and framing your only brother for it must have taken its toll on anyone's sanity.

Dean listened to Cas' account with a chill running down his spine. Cas _knew_ Anna had killed those people and set him up, yet he still took the blame for her. Dean would do anything for his brother, but even he couldn't wrap his head around Cas' logic.

"I don't understand. Why did you do it? If she was convicted, she would be getting help in an asylum, and you wouldn't have to go through all these madness."

Cas shook his head. "I couldn't do it. It was my fault my parents got killed. Anna's hands were bloodied because of me. I deserve to be here."

"Cas, you need to stop." Dean grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing Cas to meet his eyes. He stressed out each word, stern and commanding, "None of this is your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself for things you did not do."

But Castiel refused to hear Dean. It was all useless now. Everything he had done, all the blame he had taken, and none of it could help bring his parents back, or keep his sister alive. She was the sole reason he was still standing in this place. With her gone, he would simply give up the fight and die.

Or leave.

He just wanted to see her one last time, to say goodbye and tell her how much he loved her — even if it was to a cold gravestone.

"Do it for me, at least," Dean was still talking, his speech merely wafting through Castiel's ears. "Forgive yourself. I can't see you like this, ridden with guilt."

Anna also said the same thing Dean did, when she came to say goodbye in his dream last night, that Castiel had to forgive himself. But now who was there for him to hold the grudge against? His parents were dead. Their killers were dead. The person who killed those killers was also dead, killed in an accident. Fate had decided it was time to end their vicious spree.

"Cas, baby, talk to me, please." Castiel was pulled back from zoning out when Dean tugged his arm. "I'm here. You still have me."

Dean gradually formed in his vision, reminding him of his sister's words. 'Someone who loves you as much as I do, if not more,' Anna referred to Dean so. His sister had forgiven him. Maybe it was time he forgave himself.

"Show me you love me," Castiel said hastily. He got up to straddle Dean's lap, his tone urgent when he demanded, "Take me. Claim what is yours."

"What? Cas, are you sure?"

"Yes, Dean, I'm sure. I don't want to regret this."

Because Cas wasn't going to waste it, any more time. If there was one thing his sister's death taught him, it was that life was too short, too unpredictable. And if Dean wouldn't be here tomorrow, he would need something to remember him by. _This_ would be his vow to Dean, a vow that Dean would always have a special place in his soul — 'til death do them part.

Dean planted on him a soft, smiling kiss: a sweet promise of a valiant sailing through uncharted seas. "Tonight, okay? I need to get us some supplies."

 

~:~:~

"So you're a f—"

Dean silenced him with a smooch before Cas could get the word out. It was after lunch time, and even though they had been conversing more quietly than they usually did in their hushed voices, he couldn't risk anyone hearing it.

"I'm not a fed," Dean clarified. Cas saw the f-word from the movements of Dean's lips rather than hearing it. "I used to work for one. Sam and I did all the dirty jobs for them, the kind that couldn't go on record."

"But why are you here? Don't you have immunity or something?"

"It's complicated." Dean sighed when he couldn't come up with a better explanation. "I had to accept the charges so it wouldn't blow the entire operation, but they did try to help me out. I was placed here because of that. They needed me to do some investigation here, taking on a whole new _official_ assignment, hoping to bail me out once the case closes."

"You mean the Alastair case?"

Dean nodded.

"So you failed?" Cas asked, baffled. It didn't seem like a failure to him, but what did he know? It was before his time. "Is that why you're still here?"

"Oh, it was successful alright," Dean said ruefully. "I just refused to leave."

Castiel frowned. His head did that involuntary tilt he usually did. "Why?"

But Dean no longer spoke. He merely bit his lower lip and stared at his knees.

"Dean," Cas nudged him gently. "Why didn't you leave?"

All these while, Cas never knew Dean had had a choice. There must be something crucial behind Dean's decision. One simply did not put himself behind bars by design. He just wished Dean would share the burden with him, whatever it was.

"I can't," Dean croaked out after a short while. It wasn't something that was meant to be spoken, but Cas had a way to drill his soul and tear down every fort and wall Dean ever built.

"Sam was all I had," Dean elaborated. Though he couldn't keep his voice from wavering, he fought tears pricking his eyes. It was painful, talking about it, but it was also a relief. "I tried my best to be everything I could for him. I tried to be the best brother he'll ever have. I tried my best to be a better mom and dad than any kid could ever dream of. I made sure Sam had the best of everything our desolate lives could offer. But then—"

Dean thumped his head on the wall and closed his eyes, but it wasn't quick enough to hide a single tear that descended his cheek. Castiel rushed to sit on Dean's lap, to give him a sense of warmth and corporeal presence. He placed a hand on Dean's five o'clock shadow. Dean promptly leaned into the touch, savoring all the comfort he could get.

"But then I'm here." Dean swallowed hard. "And what I see is that the best life Sam ever has is the one without me."

Dean was glad that Cas pulled him into his arms. This way he could hide his ugly sobs on Cas' shoulder. A bright future awaited Sam, who was working his way up to be that big-shot lawyer, with a beautiful girlfriend he had been pining for since he was a squirt. Dean wondered where it all went so wrong. Why were they on the roads doing jack shit instead of sending Sam to Stanford with a full ride, making his way to be a real legal advisor instead of posing as one?

"You can't speak for him," Castiel said softly. "Maybe his idea of the best life is the one that includes you." He smiled when Dean pulled back, puzzled. "Remember you are all he has, too."

Castiel was caught off-guard when Dean yanked him close and crushed his lips. Dean's face was soaking with salty tears, making the kiss both sloppy and sad. He would have known. Anna was all he had, too. He would take any version of his life, if it meant he could be with her.

As if sensing his thought, Dean uttered a word of apology. Cas lightly shook his head in dismissal.

"You know you have me now, right?" Dean said firmly. It was a statement, not a question. The solemnity of it made Castiel peck Dean's lips with a grin.

"No," he teased, smiling wider when he saw Dean's face twitch in confusion. "We have each other."

Yes, they had each other. Before Cas came into his life, Dean never saw himself outside the cage, going back to the same old routines, dragging Sam to hell with him. But now? Now he couldn't wait to walk away from here, making breakfast for this adorable dork, limbs tangling on the sofa watching movies or holding hands in the settling sun. Sam could have the life he wanted, and Dean could live the life he never knew he had.

Dean tackled him, throwing Castiel on his back on the mattress. He then lifted the hem of Cas' shirt and blew raspberries kisses on his soft tummy. Castiel's mirthful laughter permeated the air, chasing away the gloom that clouded over them.

 

~:~:~

"So, how do we get out this time?" Castiel asked after they were calm enough to talk again. Dean tickling him was followed by a series of light-hearted wrestling matches and heavy make-out sessions.

"We take on another case," Dean stated matter-of-factly. "Sam is coming in tomorrow. I already told him you're on board. Hopefully he could build us a solid case."

"Is there something else to investigate here?"

Dean fidgeted where he sat. He wished there was a way they could do this without having to bring back bad memories. "Yeah, apparently there is something fishy about the, uh," Dean stuttered, "The drug you were given. I already gave Sam a sample of it. It seems like—" God, this was harder than he had assumed. "Lucifer and Crowley are working together."

He didn't miss the shudder that rippled through Cas' body.

"Crowley? The warden?"

Cas would have that incredulous look on his face, naturally. He might not know that it was Crowley's kind of authority that enabled Lucifer to hurt him, or that could override Dr. Sebastian's drug reports, or authorize Dean's transfer order.

"You need to be extra careful around them, okay? We'll know more when Sam's here." And Dean left it at that.

 

~:~:~

"Just do it, Dean. I don't mind."

Cas was exasperated. He and Dean were now sitting on the top bunk, naked; the main light went out hours ago. Previously, they had tried a hundred different ways to get Castiel aroused: changes of places, positions, tactics. None of them worked.

"You can't ask that of me, Cas."

Dean heaved a sigh. It was horrible enough, the other night, when Dean thought he had forced himself on Cas. It was horrifying now to learn that certain things triggered him. Cas couldn't get on his hands and knees because that was, presumably, how Lucifer took him. He couldn't be sitting on Dean's lap either. That was how he saw Dean in his dream, Cas said. But, unfortunately, he had associated the recollection with pain. It took almost an hour, if not more, to calm Cas down, each time.

"You have my full consent," Cas said seriously.

"And I believe you," Dean affirmed. He put his hands on Cas' stiff shoulders and started massaging them, kissing the top of his head. "But your body says otherwise. You need to relax, Cas. You are all tensed up."

Cas leaned back into the touch, letting himself enjoy the squashing pain that bespoke gratification afterwards. The feel of Dean's calloused hands on his muscles was nothing if not sensual and unwinding.

"Lie down on your stomach for me," Dean whispered. Castiel complied, tugging a pillow under his arms. His elbows made a triangle shape over the fluffy cushion and he rested on it. Dean's hands pressed hot and hard along the length of Cas' naked spine, adding some body weight for good measure. Castiel moaned at the heavenly relief of physical tension he didn't realize he needed.

"Tell me about your wife," Dean said softly, his breath ghosted behind Cas' ear as the heels of his palms smoothed across Cas' shoulder blades. "Tell me how you met her."

"You want me to talk about Daphne?" Castiel jerked his head up and turned sideways to Dean. "Now?"

"Why not?" Dean's lips curled into an amused smile. He gently pushed Cas back down and kneaded the nape of his neck. Cas whimpered brokenly at the contact. "We try, okay? If it doesn't work, we try something else," he coaxed.

"You know how I met her. I told you a couple of times already," Cas grumbled into the pillow. His head slightly turned in synch with the movements of Dean's expert hands.

Of course Dean knew how Cas met his ex-wife. When your life was restricted to the same place and the same routines with the same people, there was nothing much you could talk about. After some time you started to repeat the same old stories.

But Dean had other idea. "This time I want you to bring yourself back to the day. Tell me as if you were there."

Cas grunted and Dean had to say _please_ nicely and give him another pacifying squeeze, before Cas eventually caved in and started his story.

It was a crisp early morning. Castiel was in a park for his daily run when he came across a girl who seemed to have some problems with her bicycle. He stopped and walked over. Now, he didn't know a thing about bikes, but he couldn't walk away from someone clearly in distress. He asked if she was alright. When the girl turned, she had a gleam of gratitude in her eyes that Castiel couldn't shake off. They ended up walking her bike to the nearest shop that happened to be roughly two miles away. It was during that walk that he felt a strange pull towards another person — a very fleshly one. The way she kept touching his arm, the way her face lit up when she told him tidbits of her life, had him asking her out for a coffee afterwards.

"You know what I love about runners?" Dean purred when Cas went silence, seemingly lost in time and space. He grazed his hands down the backside of Cas' thighs, the lines of muscles still visible even after a long time of no use. "Their strong legs. Bet you could hoist her up your hips and bounce her on your cock without the support of a wall, couldn't you?"

Cas' breath hitched as he recalled those many times he did just that. Daphne was mad about it. Her screams were deafening every time he plunged freely into her. Her whole body that was weighing down on him, got him to reach deep and harsh inside her wet channel like no other way could. It was crazy days back then.

"Tell me about the best sex you've had," Dean inquired. He was now propped on one elbow, loosely curling strands of Cas' hair with his fingers. His complimentary massage had stopped, but somehow Castiel felt the need to remain lying on his front. His hips subtly moved against the mattress. It felt so good.

"I'll tell you one of mine later, if you want," Dean crooned. His voice went a pitch lower, and Castiel'd be damned if it wasn't seductive. The image of Dean pleasuring a faceless woman got Castiel up on his elbows surging for air and chasing some much-needed friction.

It was with a shaky voice that Cas started letting Dean in on his most private secrets. One day, he came back from work, exhausted and drained. His wife was in the kitchen, cooking, as was their routine. But the instant he walked in, he dropped his bag to the floor with a thud, stupefied.

Daphne had her back to him. Her hair was rolled up into a loose bun, baring her lean neck. There were straps of an apron tied behind it. He then raked his gaze down her naked spine that slightly curved up at the small of her back. Another knot of ribbons rounded her slim waist. It was what was below that line that had his brain short-circuited.

Ebony floral garter belt hugged snugly on her hips, exposing her luscious ass cheeks and the top of her thighs. Her legs were sheathed in matching satin lace-top stockings, clipped to the belt with strings of tiny suspenders. Her feet were clad in pointy heels. He remembered them browsing through online sexy lingerie catalogue. It was enough to spice up their sex life. He never thought his wife would actually order them.

"So you have a thing for panties, huh?"

Castiel shuddered when Dean's lips brushed over the sensitive area above his shoulder blade. He whimpered as he wiggled between Dean's body that was now hovering over him and the mattress, his skin on fire.

"She wasn't wearing panties, Dean," he said pointedly. It was the absence of it that had blood clogging his phallus faster than he would have supposed it could.

"Fuck," Dean groaned onto his back. A rush of carnal desire that came with the sound had Castiel roll over and seize Dean down for a searing kiss.

"I made a beeline for her," he continued when they broke the kiss. Cas closed his eyes and squirmed as he felt Dean leisurely stroking his growing erection. "Wrapping my arms around her waist and nibbling the back of her neck. My pants were achingly tight by the time I ground my hips to the globes of her ass."

She was soaking wet when he slithered his hand downwards and dipped his fingers between her folds. She had heard him when he arrived, and the anticipation alone made her shiver with need. He got rid of the apron, opened the front of his trousers, not even bothering to undress when he pulled his cock out and slid it between her legs, rubbing but not entering. He circled her clit with his cockhead. Every prod elicited from her a moan and a flood of her wetness over his shaft.

'More, please, Castiel,' she whimpered urgently as he did nothing but teased. He wanted to enjoy the thrill more, but took pity on her. He cradled her to perch on the kitchen island. Her legs spread wide, trembling, when he crudely slammed home.

The velvety moistness had him bordering on blowing his load. Castiel gathered his breath before he got a firm grip of her hips and started moving. Daphne clenched around his cock as he pounded into her. The sound of his squelching thrusts was drowned out by their satisfying groans.

"Cas"

Dean's gravelly moan jolted Castiel back to the present. He could hardly suppress a moan himself when he opened his eyes to see Dean currently fucking himself on his fingers.

"Cas, please, I need you."

Castiel's heart raced hearing Dean beg for his touch. He placed his hands on Dean's biceps, one shaking from supporting himself on the bed, the other from the diligent work in and out of his hole. Dean's face crumpled, but it wasn't from pain.

"Please, it'll be easier on your fingers."

Cas quickly nodded. He coated his fingers with the bottle of lube Dean had handed to him. When he was sure he was generously wet enough, he had Dean guide him to his opening. Castiel was impressed by how his first digit could sink in with little resistance.

Soon Dean asked for a second one that Cas gingerly added. Dean told him to 'scissor him open' so he tried crossing and stretching his fingers, watching attentively to Dean's reaction, making sure he was not hurt. At one point, Dean visibly shuddered, which made Castiel freeze in his tracks.

"Don't stop. Do that again," Dean all but barked. Castiel was still perplexed, but he repeated the motion.

"You like that?" he asked, crushing again that spot which, he now noticed, was a small bump inside. Dean's moans when he did that were utterly obscene; it made his cock leak ridiculous amount of pre-cum.

Dean's answers were positive, though incoherent. Castiel found it amazing that he could coerce from Dean, who was usually smug, unintelligible responses. He added one more finger and more lube when Dean told him to, curling every now and then to massage his prostrate.

"Stop, stop," Dean croaked. "I'm going to come," he explained with a faint sheepish chuckle when panic started to creep up on Cas' face. Goddamn him and his long, elegant fingers. Dean knew they were going to be the death of him. He wished he were wrong. At this rate, Dean would come faster than any first-timer.

"You're too hot to handle," Dean flattered with a wide grin as he leaned down to peck Cas on the lips. It made Castiel swell up with pride.

Cas carefully removed his fingers, smearing excess lube on his own cock and stroking it, keeping it erect because he knew Dean would refuse to go through his plan for tonight otherwise. It wasn't until Dean batted his hand away and tried to roll a condom on him that he realized what Dean actually had in mind.

Castiel abruptly winced away.

"Whoa, easy, Cas," Dean cautiously said. He cupped his face and captured him in another tender kiss. "Do you want to do this tonight?" Dean asked sweetly. Castiel nodded, even though he was still wide-eyed. "Then let's do it my way. I need you. Do you trust me?"

Of course he trusted Dean. It just never occurred to him that it could be done the other way around. He had been unwilling earlier because he didn't want to hurt Dean, but Dean didn't seem to be in pain by the looks of it. If Dean wanted this, then Cas would do it for him.

He gave Dean another kiss. "I trust you."

"Good," Dean replied with an elated grin. "Follow my lead."

Truth be told, Dean was scared, scared that he couldn't get Cas aroused, or even if he did, Cas wouldn't go all the way with him. Now he was glad he had let Cas talk about his ex-wife. Cas had to re-learn that sex, primal and brutal as it was, could be enjoyable to both parties.

Dean was going to show him how.

"You ready?" he asked when he had Cas' cock lubed up and poised at his entrance. Castiel eagerly nodded and grasped when the head of his cock slipped past Dean's puckered hole. The way Dean lowered himself on his cock was both sinful and elegant. His chest glistened with sweat, his six-pack abs constricted, his muscled thighs tightened. Castiel grabbed a handful of bed sheet to still his erratic heartbeat when Dean sat fully on his groin, his cock throbbing in the burning passage.

Thankfully, Dean sat unmoving for a while, or else Cas would come in record time. Castiel gazed at their joined hips, overjoyed that this was finally happening, that he and Dean essentially became one. When he looked up, Dean had a blissed-out look on his face. Cas couldn't resist pulling him down for a bruising kiss. He didn't know who did it harder; tongue-fucking each other's mouths like their lives depended on it.

Then Dean moved, a little rolling of his hips that had Castiel give up the tongue battle in favor of chasing Dean's movements. He planted his feet on the mattress, gaining himself some footing to meet Dean at each thrust. They were not sharp or harsh plunges, just shallow undulating rides but Castiel loved the way their hips rocked together like tidal waves in rainy seas. Then Cas remembered that little bump inside that had Dean losing his mind, so he shifted his angle a little. Dean's responsive groans were nothing short of pornographic.

"Cas, _Cas_ "

Besides his name, Cas couldn't make out other terms that fell from Dean's parted lips. He himself had lost the ability to form words long before, else he would say how beautiful Dean looked at this moment; praise him for how perfect he was when his skin flushed with passionate heat while Cas swayed with him.

Dean's mind was whirling. He couldn't muse anything beyond _Cas_ and _need_ and _more_. He had planned to ride Cas hard, to show him how good Dean could make him feel, but Cas was relentlessly scraping that spot with his slick lunges. It made Dean lose control over himself. He toppled forward; his palms flopped besides Cas' shoulders. Cas grinned up at him as he grabbed Dean by his pelvic bones; the slight gap between their hips allowed for Castiel to fuck into him hard and fast. It was embarrassing how Dean's moans echoed deeper and louder than he would ever admit in his lifetime.

When Cas got up to stifle his moans with a kiss, Dean knew he was losing this fight. He pushed at Cas' chest for leverage and then straightened his back. This time, Dean clenched his ass as he pulled almost all the way off and loosened it as he slid back down, milking Cas the best he knew how. He smirked when Cas literally growled, reveling in the triumph as he impaled himself on Cas' cock, riding it like a pro he knew he was.

It didn't last long, however, when Cas' arousal never failed to hit Dean's prostrate. Soon Dean could do nothing more than fall back to the rhythmic ebbs and flows of their hips. His back arched, his arms fumbling for purchase as his orgasm rapidly built. When Castiel took hold of Dean's flinging hand, entwining their fingers, he lost it. The delicate bones were near breaking when Dean tensed up and came. Creamy, steamy liquid spurted far and fierily across Castiel's chest.

Cas got his orgasm ripped out of him when Dean's anal muscles clenched and dilated wildly around his length. His balls pulsated as it shot out gush after gush of his seeds, rendering Castiel partly unconscious. When he came to, Dean was up on one elbow, grinning at him like a happy idiot. His body was already cleaned of the sticky mess.

"Hey gorgeous," Dean cooed, brushing a sweaty lock of hair off his forehead. Castiel basked in the feel of Dean's soft touch and his post-coitus euphoria. "That was intense, huh?"

Cas grabbed Dean's hand that skirted around the shape of his countenance, and brought it to a kiss. "It was," he agreed with a contented smile.

It was nearly unimaginable, that they would come to this. Lost souls that ventured through the gravest perils, binding by the most disastrous of fate, had found their way to each other in the end.

Dean wriggled until his body half blanketed over Cas'. He kissed the corner of Cas' mouth, his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, all the unusual places; it had Castiel giggle softly at every brush. As his hand kept toying the dark curls of Cas' hair, Dean knew he would never get tired of that smile.

"I love you," he said, gulping down the butterflies that were fluttering with excitement in his belly. It was ludicrous, precarious even, how Dean fell headlong in love with the man underneath him, his better judgment thrown overboard. There were many things in life that Dean regretted. Definitely, _this_ was not one of them — never would be.

Cas was his life and light. The day it stopped shining would be the day Dean breathed his last.

Castiel didn't miss the way Dean swallowed the lump in his throat or the jitters that flickered over his face as he said those words. It was nerves, not uncertainty. And if Dean, in all his nervousness, could do it, maybe he could do it, too. Maybe Dean could help him find his definition of love. Maybe they could help each other define theirs.

"I know," Cas replied with a gentle smile, petting Dean on one cheek. "I love you, too."

 

~:~:~

Some time at dawn, Dean woke up to a sound of muffled cry. He looked around to see Cas sitting on the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest as he sobbed onto them. Dean entangled him from the posture, ushering him to lie down and cry onto his shoulder instead. He didn't say a word, only held Cas close and let him mourn his sister's death until he fell back to sleep. After all, nobody replaced the ones you loved.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter some time ago, but I was reluctant to post it. I guess, in a way, it is getting harder and harder to part with the characters you dearly love, despite their flaws — _because_ of their flaws. I am also aware that each of you has your own expectations, and there is no way I can meet all of them. My only hope is that you don't find mine too... unacceptable.


	19. Eat, Sleep, Rave, Repeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eat, Sleep, Rave, Repeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To you bravest souls who reviewed the last chapter: darkphoenix2345, aLoggedInReader, drreggie, darkrose_9, cider_jelly, Ariel and you unnamed guest, this one (albeit short) is for you.

Dean watched as Cas rolled onto his back. The sky gradually brightened and soon the first alarm of the day would blare, wrenching prisoners from their peaceful slumber. Cas tilted his head a little to the side, his breathing warm and heavy. The early morning light allowed Dean to observe his lover's serene countenance. There were creases on his left cheek, a result of resting his head too long on Dean's crumpled shirt. His eyelids were puffy. His hair disheveled.

Dean quietly climbed down the ladder to fetch a small towel, soaked it with cold tap water and wrung it out. When he climbed back up, he folded the damp cloth neatly and placed it over Castiel's swollen eyes. Cas stirred at the touch, but did not wake.

"Sleepyhead" Dean chuckled to himself. He leaned on one elbow, a position he found himself in a lot lately. It was a perfect angle to keep his gaze on the man next to him. Dean placed a hand on Castiel's chest, letting himself enjoy the small rise and fall as it heaved. He pressed his hand a little more tightly, when Cas jolted awake due to the blast of the alarm.

Castiel fumbled with the mysterious piece of clothing on his face, pushing it away as if the fabric alone could poison him. When his eyes met with Dean's amused smile, Cas' body relaxed. He wriggled over to bury his face on Dean's shoulder.

"Morning, babe," Dean greeted softly. He let his head drop on the pillow so he could slide one arm under Cas and hold him close. Dean buried his nose on Cas' hair; his greeting was returned with a drowsy hum.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," came Castiel's muffled reply. He confessed his love to Dean on the same day he had learned of Anna's death. Honestly, he had no idea how to feel about it.

Dean couldn't blame him. Cas had lost his sister and sought comfort in Dean's touch, which Dean was more than happy to oblige. What surprised Dean, however, was Cas' little 'I love you.' Cas loved him. Dean hid his smile behind Cas' head; his cheeks flushed red. He still couldn't believe what he had heard. He felt like shouting it out at the top of his lungs for the whole world to hear.

Cas drew his head back. His eyes narrowed when he noticed Dean's beaming grin. "How are you?" he asked, the account of last night coming to his mind. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Far from it," Dean cheekily replied. His heart swelled as he felt the tingling burn that still lingered in his rear. "Granted, I'm a little sore. I haven't done that in quite a long time," he added truthfully. When he noticed the worried look on Cas' face, Dean quickly elaborated, "But it's a good sore. The kind of sore I wouldn't mind feeling again and again."

Cas ducked to hide his ruddy face on Dean's chest, eliciting from Dean a hearty laugh. His cheeks were aflame as he recalled, in more vivid images now, what Dean had given him. Cas couldn't remember the last time he blacked out as a result of coming so hard. He wished that he, too, could give Dean the pleasure in kind.

"I want to do that for you, too, sometime," Cas mumbled, timidly lifting himself up.

Dean sat up after him, cupping Cas' cheeks in his palms, and gave him a chaste kiss. He knew it was a big step, hearing those words come out of a former victim's mouth. "When you're ready, okay?" Dean promised with a grateful smile.

"Come on. I can't wait for you to meet Sammy!" Dean said cheerily, hopping off the top bunk with finesse.

"Dean, wait," Cas called after him. He leaned down and bended a little over the bed railing when Dean turned back. "Thank you," he said, "For not giving up on me."

Dean, whose temper was well known among inmates and officers alike, had the patience of a saint when it came to treating Castiel. Dean, whose impeccable features alone would drop men and women to their knees, chose to wait on a tainted, damaged Castiel.

A corner of Dean's lips curled into a smile. With one hand, Dean cupped the base of Cas' neck and pulled him close, leaving just a narrow, tempting gap. Cas' lips parted, expectant, as he stared blatantly down at Dean's luscious lips. Dean deliberately wetted them with the tip of his tongue, not missing the hungry look that flickered across Cas' face. Castiel surged forward; the movement threw him off balance. His face landed unceremoniously instead on the crook of Dean's neck. His body hung precariously in the air.

Dean deftly grabbed both sides of Cas' torso and hauled him down. Cas yelped. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, holding on to Dean for dear life until he realized his feet were steady on the floor; his head askew on Dean's shoulder still. It was not a graceful move, but at least he was unscathed, Dean's body a safe landing ground.

Dean dipped his head lower. His lips met with Castiel's, nipping and nudging them until Cas tipped his head back up. Cas carded his fingers through Dean's hair, lightly pulling it. Dean purred, between kisses, in pleased content. His arms glided down and around Cas' waist, drawing their hips close. Their legs carried them around in an attempt to find a solid surface to touch down, Dean's perhaps a little too desirous. Cas' back bumped into the metal ladder, causing him to let out a soft groan.

"Sorry," Dean panted. "Did I hurt you?"

Castiel shook his head, unable to say more. He, too, found himself puffing. Their limbs remained tangled around one another.

Dean closed his eyes, resting his forehead on Cas'. "I love you," he breathed. Of course Dean would never give up on him; not for anything or anyone else in the world. He loved Cas too much.

"I love you, too," Castiel replied with a giddy smile, surprised to find he liked the taste of those words on his tongue.

"WINCHESTER!"

Both of them jumped at the shout of Dean's name. Officer Britton stood at their cell gate, undaunted by Dean's unwelcoming scowl. "The warden asked to see you," he said coolly.

"What? Now?" Dean barked. He moved to stand up straight, subtly shielding Cas behind his back.

"What do you think?" The prison guard retorted with a smirk, flashing a pair of handcuffs in his fingers.

"But I'd miss my breakfast!" Dean wailed just because he could.

Britton was not amused, which was kind of Dean's point. "If you don't want to miss lunch and dinner, too, I suggest you move your ass out here, and fast!" he snapped.

Dean whirled around to peck Cas on his cheek, the side that nobody could see, and whispered in his ear, "Go with Gabriel."

Cas absently nodded as he watched the officer cuff Dean and lead him away. "Gabe!" he heard Dean bellow. His voice echoed across the five floors of the building. "Get your ass down here!"

"Aye!" the other inmate hollered back.

~:~:~

"So, how's our happy camper?" The toad-like warden chirped when Dean was brought in. His high-back chair creaked while he turned it around, hands folded neatly on his lap.

"What do you want?" Dean scowled, yanking with annoyance at the uncomfortable cuffs and chains.

"Oh, I want a lot of things, Dean," Crowley cooed in a cold, heartless voice. "One of them is your slow, tortured death."

"Bite me."

"Thanks, but no, thanks." Making a face, the man in a crisp suit rose to his feet. "How about we make a deal?"

Dean did not reply. He kept his chin up and stared right back at the authority figure in front of him. Crowley rolled his eyes, shoved his hands into his pants pockets and rounded the desk to face Dean.

"Okay, let's rewind the tape, shall we?" he stated. " _You_ threatened to kill my officers. _I_ had you transferred to a Supermax prison. _Someone_ nullified my order. _I_ moved your cellmate. _Someone_ moved him back in. You see how this is making me look, Dean?"

"Like a loser," Dean supplied unnecessarily.

"This can't go on," Crowley continued, pointedly ignoring Dean's comment. "See, tit-for-tat doesn't get me anywhere. So, here I present to you my peace offering. You get to keep your pet at night. I require his service as my personal assistant during work hours."

Dean gawked. "But you already have a PA!"

The warden snorted. He reached back over the desk and pressed a button on his phone.

"Sir?" The voice of his secretary issued from the speaker.

"Susan," Crowley spoke into it. "You're fired."

Dean could catch only a brief squawk before the line was cut. That son of a bitch just sacked his personal assistant so he could give the post to Cas. Dean was livid. "Why are you doing this?" he hissed.

"You know the saying," Crowley replied with a shrug. "Keep your enemy close. Keep your enemy's boyfriend closer."

"You can't have him!" Dean bawled, his nostrils flaring with anger.

"Did I mislead you into thinking that this is negotiable? Because it's not," Crowley sneered. "I promise to keep him unharmed so long as you keep your nose out of my business, Dean. Cross that line and I'll never know what kind of _personal_ assistance I'll be needing from angel-face." The extra emphasis didn't go unnoticed. "Lucifer did say he quite enjoyed that fine piece of ass. I might see for myself if it lived up to its reputation."

"You sick bastard!" Dean growled, lurching forward, but was held back by his chains and two prison guards at his sides. This could not be happening, not again. Cas must not be used as his leverage.

"You never learn, do you?" Crowley taunted now that the prisoner was secured, his breath clammy on Dean's face. "It's this kind of attitude that will get Castiel hurt. Oh and I'm _dying_ to hurt him," he gloated with a greedy leer. "Test me, why don't you?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to cut this part into smaller chapters, instead of doing a long-ass one that takes forever to update. Bear with me, folks. The end is nigh. Thank you for reading.


	20. A New Life A New Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel meets his new family and receives a new task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all your reviews. They mean a lot to me.

Castiel dreaded the visiting room. The first time he had stepped into this hall, he had learned of his sister's death. He wasn't sure if he was ready for another visit so soon.

Dean was sitting on a table opposite a big guy with slightly long hair. Once the taller man noticed him, he let Dean know with a nod of his head.

He didn't miss the troubled look on Dean's face, which was rapidly replaced with a wide grin upon catching sight of him.

"Hey Cas," Dean greeted warmly. He got up and approached the new visitor. His arms parted as if Dean was going to embrace him, but they were dropped just as quickly. One hand, instead, reached up to toy with a lock of hair behind Cas' ear.

"Is everything alright?" Castiel asked softly as he stepped a little closer to search Dean's eyes, worried. The only time Dean would drop his no PDA rule was when something really bad happened, otherwise Dean would never touch him in public, no matter how subtle it was.

"Yes, yes, of course, it is," Dean replied, a little too quickly. Castiel didn't expect otherwise, so instead he tried to read an answer from Dean's face.

"What did Crowley want with you?"

Dean had been very happy this morning. It must have been the visit to the warden's office that was the cause of his queasiness. Castiel was certain Dean hadn't been here long enough for Sam to give him any devastating news.

"Nothing," Dean brushed off. Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Come on. Let's go see the Sasquatch."

Then he was led to the table Dean previously sat. Sam, he supposed, was much bigger than he thought, when standing tall.

"Cas, this is my brother, Sam. Sam, Cas," Dean introduced the two of them.

"I've heard a lot about you," Cas politely commented, shaking the hand Sam offered.

"Good things, I hope?" Sam replied with a diffident smile. Despite his large physique, Castiel noticed, Sam sported a civil manner Dean seemed to lack.

"Dean speaks very highly of you," he affirmed. The baffled look on Sam's face, however, was unexpected. Perhaps Dean didn't let Sam in on how much he actually treasured his brother.

Dean cleared his throat, interrupting whatever dubieties hung between the two strangers. "Cas here is going to be your brother-in-law," he blurted in one breath, looking nervously everywhere.

"Okay"

"Shut it, Sam," Dean snapped. "If I'm going to be stuck here for the rest of my life, you have no say in who I choose to spend it with."

"Dean," Sam said simply, a faint chuckle audible in his voice. "I said okay."

Dean's face went blank, then beet red. He cleared his throat again, loudly, hand flinging randomly in the air. "Yeah, good," he grumbled, trying and failing to will the embarrassment away. "Get Jo's ass down here, too. He'll need to meet her."

Sam turned to his new in-law with an amused grin. "Jo will be very pleased to meet you," he said. It was then, behind those knowing smiles they exchanged, that Castiel knew they were going to get along well.

"Stop flirting, you two," Dean cut them off self-consciously. "Sit down"

Sam moved to the chair he previously sat at, but not before giving Dean a light smirk. Once the two inmates were seated on the bench opposite him, he started, "Where's Gabriel?"

"He said he'll meet with you later," Cas relayed the message his mentor had given him.

"Why can't he meet Sam with us present?" Dean glowered at Castiel, whom, Sam couldn't help but notice, slightly flinched at the abrupt tone in Dean's voice.

"I don't know, Dean," Sam feigned innocence, putting on what his brother called a 'bitch face', knowing it would get under his skin, "because you keep barking at him like a guard dog?"

Dean snorted. Cas looked between the two brothers as if he had missed some inside jokes. Sam took pity on him and decided to ignore his idiot of a brother.

"Okay," Sam burst out, rubbing his hands in front of him. "Good news first. We have a case, and you're in on it, the both of you."

Dean and Castiel lit up in synchronization at the announcement. It was so endearing that Sam couldn't resist the smile on his lips. "And since we need you both on the case, there'll be no more transfer orders."

A faint shriek of delight slipped past Castiel's lips; Dean responded with a matching beam. The way they leaned into each other in relief, foreheads nearly touching, could have melted Sam on the spot. One of Dean's thumbs traced loose circles on Cas' stubble as they whispered to each other what Sam guessed was words of joy. Their eyes gleamed with elation.

Sam wasn't sure he had ever seen his brother this happy — this _vulnerable_. Dean, who masked all his emotions behind a stoic expression, could conceal nothing when it came to a certain Mr. Milton. No wonder Castiel was targeted. Everyone with an eye could see how much he meant to Dean.

The golden moment didn't last long, however. Dean turned back to him and asked, "What do we got?"

Sam gave a firm nod, collecting himself back to business mode. "We gave the drug sample to Ash to analyze," he let on. "Turned out the drug was in strange combinations, not the kind you would find in DEA databases. Word on the street is that somebody is trying to cook a new product and take over the market."

"That's huge," Dean whistled silently. "Do we know who this someone is?"

Sam shook his head. "Nobody has actually met him. He is referred to as 'The King of Hell' so I guess we all know who that is."

The whole table went silent as the graveness of the matter slowly sank in. "You mean the…" Cas trailed off dumbly.

"Yes, that's him," Dean interjected. "He can't be doing this alone, can he? Something this big, he must have partners."

"Maybe or maybe not," Sam replied with a shrug. "We do not know what his role is exactly in this business, but an educated guess is that he is the one who supplies drugs in the house, making profit. You know how insanely expensive this thing is in prison. At the same time," Sam held out a finger before Dean could interrupt him, "testing his new product on live subjects — inmates — killing two birds with one stone."

"Jesus," Dean cried, looking away. He rubbed his face in frustration. So that was the reason the infirmary was rife with drug or overdose cases. "You're saying that whatever he was given," Dean flung his hand in Castiel's general direction, "was an unstable product that could have easily killed him?"

Sam pursed his lips and Cas could only stare at the table. "Jesus, fuck," Dean spat. He got up, turning his back to his company, running his hand over his head. Crowley wanted to expand his market into Dean's block, no doubt. That must have been why he said he would keep Cas unharmed as long as Dean kept his nose out of his business.

Dean whirled around and bawled, "Do we have anything to nail that son of a bitch?"

Sam looked to Cas once before looking back at his brother. "We searched his house and—"

"We who?" Dean cut in.

"What?"

"Sam, I know if the house was searched with a warrant, Crowley would know he's got his butt sniffed. But, as far as I see, he seems clueless. There are only a few people I know who could search a house and leave it as if it hasn't been touched."

Sam fidgeted under Dean's scowl. After what felt like forever, the younger man deflated. "Alright," he admitted. "I did it."

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean was on him in an instant. He grabbed Sam's shirt with both hands and barked into this face, "Who do you think I rot in here for, huh? What part of 'we quit' don't you understand?"

"I had to, Dean," Sam retorted. "We can't spook him. And the only person who is better at this job than me is rotting here in jail. Who do you think I did it for?"

"Come on, Dean, sit down." Castiel got up and carefully unwound Dean's fingers. Dean huffed before letting go and slumped back down.

"You found anything in there?" Cas continued the conversation while Sam smoothed his shirt and Dean crossed his arms over his chest, fuming.

Sam shook his head as he calmed himself. "A few things, but none that could tie him to the crime happening here. We assume whatever records he keeps, it must be kept here, in his office."

"Hello, Handsome"

It all happened so fast. Sam only heard a soft greeting from somewhere near Cas. Next thing he knew, Dean was looming over someone; hand fisted into the guy's shirt. Sam leaned over to get a better look on the face.

_Lucifer_

"The only reason you're still alive," Dean hissed, the menacing look ablaze in his eyes, "is because Cas asked me to. But if you ever so much as breathe the same air he does, I'll make sure you never breathe again. You hear me?"

The Devil just smirked. If he was in any way intimidated by Dean's words, he did a very good job of concealing it — or maybe he simply wasn't afraid.

From the corner of his eye, Sam could see Castiel sit motionless. But when he turned to get a good look at him, Cas' posture stiffened. His body tensed to the point of trembling.

Sam cautiously called his brother, keeping his eyes on his new friend for fear of him getting a panic attack. When Dean finally saw what was happening, Sam took over throwing the scumbag out of the visiting room, while Dean rushed to his boyfriend's side.

"Cas, Cas, baby, look at me, please," Dean's voice was soft as he gently patted Castiel on the cheek. Quiet murmurs never failed to fall from his lips, as if it was the only thing guiding Castiel back to the land of the living. "That's it. You're with me, babe? We are in the visitor's hall. We came to see Sammy today, remember?"

Sam could see it clearly, the moment Cas' eyes turned from glazed to focused. "Dean?" Castiel mumbled softly. A flood of relief washed over Dean's face. "Yes, baby, it's me, Dean. You're safe now. I'm here with you." Dean gently brought Cas' hand up for a light kiss. "You see where we are now? Sammy is just over there. There's no one else but us."

When Dean turned to him as if to ask if Lucifer was gone, Sam gave a reassuring nod. Castiel carefully turned his way, too. It was heartbreaking to see such fear dance in those bright blue eyes.

Then Castiel slumped onto Dean's shoulder. Dean quickly embraced him, rubbing his back and whispering nonsenses that would be calming to the afflicted, but hurtful for beholders to hear.

"Do you want to go back to our cell first?" Dean asked when they broke slightly apart. Castiel shook his head lightly. "I'm fine," he said, but the way he still clung to Dean betrayed it. "Let's get this over with."

It wasn't until a short while later that the both of them turned fully back to Sam. Castiel leaned heavily on Dean's side. Their hands disappeared under the table where Sam assumed remained firmly clasped.

"So, where were we?" Dean finally asked.

"Right," Sam cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. It was, admittedly, disturbing to witness the scene that had unfurled before him. "So, we searched his house and Jo is working with the DEA on the outside as we speak, but we need something that ties him to his business _inside_."

Jo and her team could bring down the ugly business on their own all right, but that wouldn't help Dean walk out of here, which was, frankly, what Sam cared most about now.

"We tried to remote access his computer," he went on. "But it's _never_ connected. The guy must be overly cautious. I had Garth sneak in to copy his whole hard drive. It seems like his computer exists for nothing but porn — of the most improper kind." Sam visibly shuddered at his last words. How Crowley could access such films without internet connection was beyond him.

"Did Garth go back to search his office?" his brother asked, slightly cringing at Sam's information as well.

Sam shook his head. "Can't. It's too risky. He almost got caught last time. He needs to lay low."

Silence fell over the three of them as they pondered the briefing and tried to conjure something. Setting up a drug bust in prison was impossible, and they wouldn't be able to get anyone to testify because in here a snitch was dead meat. They needed to do this on their own.

"I'll do it," Dean stated. "I'll search his office."

"He can do it."

"Fuck, no, Sam"

"I can do what?" Castiel asked, perplexed.

If the death glares Dean sent his way could materialize and shoot themselves, Sam would be shredded cheese by now. Pointedly ignoring them, Sam explained to Castiel, "Dean said Crowley wanted you to work as his personal assistant."

"He what?"

"Fuck it, Sam. Not gonna happen."

"I'll just have to search his office, right?"

"No way!" Dean all but barked at Castiel, seemingly horrified at the turn of events. "I won't let you do it."

"What do I have to look for?"

"Anything that could tie him," Sam shrugged. "A suspicious account book, a record of his 'experiment', a journal, something that he uses to keep track of his business. It could be kept in his office or on his person."

"Shut it, the both of you!" Dean banged the table harshly, irritated that the conversation continued as if he hadn't spoken. "No one is doing anything but me."

"Dean," Sam sighed with weariness in his voice. "If you wanted him on the case, he must contribute something, else I couldn't get him out if I try."

"Are you fucking out of your mind?" Dean snarled, his glare fierce enough to burn through the back of Sam's skull. "Didn't you see how he was?"

"Come on, Dean," Sam whined. "He'll just have to search the office that he _is required_ to be in, when Crowley is not around. How hard could that be?"

"How ha—" Dean scoffed drily, throwing his hands in disbelief.

"I can do it, Dean. I am not afraid of the warden," Cas gave Dean needed reassurance. He was, in fact, not afraid of anyone save for his former attacker — a fact that would've remained irrelevant to Dean if Lucifer hadn't shown up when he did.

Dean cast them black looks. How could they be sure that Cas would not freak out again, and specifically, while being alone in Crowley's office, who had a collection of filthy porn in his computer? How was that not unsettling?

"Unless you can find a way for me _not_ having to be Crowley's assistant," Castiel turned fully to Dean now, a hint of dare in his voice, "I'd say it's a perfect opportunity." Besides, given his former profession in finance, he'd know a foul account when he saw one.

"This is not a fucking debate, Cas." Dean hissed through gritted teeth. It was bad enough that Cas had to be The Toad's gofer and Dean could do nothing about it; he didn't need Cas rubbing it in, too.

"Please, Dean, let me do it," Cas resolved to begging. "I want to get out of here. I _need_ to get out of here. Please, I don't want to be here anymore."

The defeated tone in Cas' voice softened him. Dean pulled Cas into a hug. He, too, wanted Cas out of here, where there were constant dangers and incessant threats. Maybe more than Cas wanted out himself.

"I know," Dean cooed, stroking the back of Castiel's head. "That's why I'm doing it. I'll get us out of here."

To both of the Winchesters' shocking surprise, Cas shoved Dean away, hard.

"You need to stop!" Cas shouted. "You can't keep doing this, Dean. You can't coddle me forever. It was one big mistake. _One!_ But you never forgive me. You never believe I can take care of myself no matter how much I try proving it to you."

"Do you know what will happen if you fail, huh?" Dean retorted, just as loudly. "What he will do to you when he finds out?"

"It'd be the same things he'd do to me if you failed. Why would you think I'll fail and you won't?" Castiel countered, affronted. "You may think I'm helpless, Dean, but I am not. I'm as good a fighter as you are. If you want, I can take you down, right here, right now."

Dean glowered, but beneath his anger, he knew Cas was right. Cas was much, much stronger than Dean was. He got through assaults, more than once. He'd get through it again. Dean, on the other hand, wasn't sure if he could take another blow.

"I don't like any of this," he muttered under his breath before storming away.

Castiel heaved a dejected sigh, hanging his head low. He never wanted to lash out at Dean, let alone did it in front of his family.

"I'm sorry about him," Sam said quietly. "Dean has his… issues," he fumbled. Whatever baggage Dean carried was more complicated and deep-rooted for words. "Prison only makes it worse."

Cas nodded in understanding. He could guess how protective Dean could be, from the way Dean prided himself in raising and keeping his baby brother well. It never bothered him. His sibling was worse, and he had handled it. If anything, he was responsible for Dean's _issues_ as much. Dean only got unduly smothering after his incident with Lucifer.

"Hopefully he'll get better once he is out of here," Sam remarked with sanguine undertones. Whatever doubts Sam had had about Castiel, it was all bygone now. The way Cas stood his ground and took none of Dean's shit just earned himself a special place in Sam's book.

"I'd like to believe so," Cas agreed, his sigh this side of wistful. "It might not be easy, but at least you'll be there for him, right?"

"Every step of the way"

Castiel found himself returning Sam's dimpled smile with one of his own. He secretly admired how Sam managed to keep his optimism despite the length of time Dean had been incarcerated.

"Cas! Come on, let's go." Dean, who had left the visitor's hall, was now hovering at the exit, bellowing for him to follow suit.

"It was nice meeting you, Sam," Castiel bid his farewell, shaking hands with Sam one more time, his words by no means a stock expression. He was glad to see that Sam was nothing short of the good kid Dean had been so proud of.

"You too. I'll check in every day."

When Sam shoved his hands into his pant pockets, Castiel took it as his cue to leave. As he retreated, he saw Dean waving his brother goodbye.

"Cas, wait."

Turning back at the voice, Castiel frowned when he saw Sam walking up to him. They were still far from the door, possibly out of Dean's earshot.

Sam seemed hesitant. He dropped his gaze to the floor before mumbling coyly, "I'm sorry."

Cas tilted his head. If it was about Dean, Sam already said his apology.

"About your sister," Sam elaborated.

Castiel swallowed the pang in his chest. Dean must have told his brother before he arrived. That must be why Sam so readily accepted him. Sam might be his new family, but it was definitely nothing like the old one. Still, he appreciated the sentiment.

He gave Sam a slight nod and a tight smile, rushing away when Dean hollered for him one more time.


	21. Pale Blue Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean helps Castiel prepare for his new task, against his better judgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see some new faces here, so let me say, 'Welcome aboard!' For the rest of you, re-read the warnings before you continue. Enjoy.

When Castiel entered his cell that evening, Dean stood waiting for him against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. The sound of the buzzer and the cell gate sliding shut made Cas flinch. That, or he just needed an excuse to flinch at Dean's deadly glare.

He tentatively called Dean's name, but it was abruptly cut off.

"I hid a piece of paper here, somewhere. Find it. You have two minutes."

Without further explanation, Dean moved past him to stand at the metal gate, his back to Castiel, his eyes gazing straight out. Cas opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. He was lost for words.

"Clock's ticking, Cas!" Dean barked.

Cas sprang into motion. He had no idea what kind of game Dean was playing, but he'd rather do what Dean said than face Dean's double wrath.

By the time Dean declared time was up, their cell was a mess. Castiel had no idea how long two minutes was supposed to be, so he tossed everything first chance he got. Of course, he did not find that shit piece of paper.

Dean heaved a disappointed sigh when he turned around. "If you want me to trust you to search Crowley's office," he reproached, "you need to do better than this."

Then Dean gave him, with little resources they had, a hands-on lesson on how to turn a place upside down, without turning it upside down, so to speak. He taught him where to look first, how to notice secret compartments, etc. Dean had been to Crowley's office too many times. He had Cas close his eyes, imagine it until he saw what Dean saw. Together, they strategized a plan to search the office efficiently.

By the time their lesson was finished, Cas was exhausted. He sprawled out on his bed, stretching his arms and legs as wide as he could. The main light was out long ago.

"Come on, champ, scoot. Or should I go back to my own bed?" Dean stood by their bunk, playfully kicking at the foot that was dangling off the mattress.

"Two minutes, Dean. My whole body aches," Cas fake whined with a teasing smile. By now, he knew exactly how long two minutes was. Dean taught him how to count for it. But after ten seconds, he scurried closer to the wall to give Dean his space.

Dean smirked before settling down where he belonged. Lying between Dean and the wall made Cas feel safe, even though sometimes, in his sleep in the dead of night, he knocked his limbs against it, leaving bruises.

Cas draped half of his body over Dean's, stretching his arms and legs. Dean was winded by the sudden weight. "Really, Cas?" he groused.

Castiel just smiled and buried his face on the pillow next to Dean's head. "You're my teddy bear," he giggled.

"I'm a what?" Dean scrunched up his face, pulling back enough to look at Cas. "I'm not— I'm not a bear. I'm not even that fat," he grumbled, resting his head back down.

"I'm not saying you're fat. I'm saying you're cuddly."

"What? No!" Dean squawked. "I'm not cuddly. I don't cuddle. I only cuddle because you—"

Dean went wide-eyed when Cas pressed their lips together, effectively hushing him.

"Shut up, Dean, before you say something that will hurt my feelings."

Dean bit his bottom lip, guilt flashing in his eyes, but soon they were consumed by another idea.

"Then I guess you'll need to keep my mouth occupied," he jested, turning to attack Cas' lips with his own. Castiel whined at the change in his comfortable position, but soon gave out satisfied hums when Dean's plump lips nibbled his, fingers tapping along his jaw.

Cas moaned when Dean's weight shifted over him. He sneaked his arms around Dean's back, pulling him closer. Chests flushed so much so that he could feel his heart drum against Dean's ribcage; its beating resonated the bubbling thrill.

Puffing, Dean touched their foreheads together, something Castiel learned Dean was very fond of doing. Cas basked in the small, loving kisses Dean planted on his eyebrows, his nose, his cheeks; Dean's breath warmed over his face.

Dean nuzzled along Cas' shoulder, inhaling long and deep. He rested on his side, pulling Cas close. His fingers dug into Castiel's back, as if he feared Cas would fly away if he didn't pin him down.

"Cas, can we just go, please?" Dean whispered; desperation evident in his voice, in the quivering of his lips. "I'll break us out of here. We can go visit your sister and then we'll go far, far away. Never look back. Never be found."

Castiel shushed him with gentle kisses. He knew where Dean's fear was grounded. Dean's lips were unyielding at first, refusing to be comforted. Cas allowed his body to relax against Dean's, giving out contented purrs. Finally Dean followed suit, sighing softly into the kisses, chasing his anxiety away.

"We are so close, Dean," Cas murmured against Dean's lips. "Just one more piece of evidence and we'll get the bad guys, help their victims and be on our way out of here." On what condition, though, Castiel was not certain. One thing he knew was that they wouldn't have to be constantly on the run, living restricted lives in unrestricted world.

Dean shook his head lightly, clinging to the last shreds of his stubbornness. "What if something goes wrong? What if there is nothing to be found in Crowley's office? What if we couldn't take him down? When will this end?"

"You can't live on what ifs, Dean," Cas chided lovingly. "Just think of Sam. Think of everything he has done to help you out. If we run, he'll never see you again. You are his only family. I know you're not selfish enough to take that away from him."

Dean pursed his lips, ducking his head down to hide his dejected face. "You know I will never be able to stop worrying about you, right?" he mumbled.

"Of course, and I'm not asking you to," Cas replied with a warm smile. He cupped Dean's face, drawing it back up to meet his gaze. "I'm glad you were worried enough to prepare me for my task."

Dean nodded glumly, his tactical brain suddenly kicking into gear. "I'll create some distraction so you'll have at least three minutes to search the place," he instructed. In response, Cas nodded appreciatively. "If things get really bad, just scream my name."

Cas couldn't help a chuckle. "What? You will magically appear?"

"I'm serious, Cas." Dean glared. "There'll always be someone nearby. If you call for me, they'll come get me and I'll be there before you know it."

Cas heaved an exasperated sigh.

"Indulge me, please?" Dean pleaded. "I did everything you asked, Cas. This is all I ask."

Even though he wasn't sure that he would do as Dean asked when the time came, Cas appeased him in the affirmative.

~:~:~

The next morning when Castiel was called for his duty as the warden's personal assistant, Crowley was already in his office, sitting cross-legged waiting for him on a leather chair that was somehow in front of his desk. To his surprise, Cas was shackled on his hands and feet, with a big chain between them, very much like the ones he had seen Dean had been put in whenever he was called to see the warden.

Castiel fell on all fours when he was kicked at the back of his knees, scraping his palms. His chains rattled with the plunge and rattled some more when he tried, in annoyance, to gain balance.

Crowley dismissed the escorting officers. Castiel watched as they retreated to the door, locked it, and left.

This screamed danger.

"So, this is the infamous Castiel," Crowley started. Cas whipped his head back to see the warden slowly approached him with a leer, rubbing his palms in front of him. His eyes sparkled with greed.

"What did they call you? A face that launches a thousand ships? You know, as much as he despises Dean, I could never get Lucifer to work with me until you came along. He likes you so much he was willing to be my ally. I can now see why."

Castiel was on his knees, which was a perfect height for Crowley to run his fingers through his hair, pushing his head around as he pleased. Cas didn't like where this was going at all.

"Do you know why you're here, pet?" Crowley sat back on his chair and asked. Placing a foot on Castiel's shoulder, he ground it; the smell of shiny black shoes assailed Cas' nostril, as sharp as the humiliation.

"To keep Dean in check," Cas replied with as hostile a scowl as he could muster. He knew he was pretty much a hostage to make sure Dean didn't get in the way of Crowley's dirty business, and he hated everything about it.

"Wrong!" the warden cackled. He removed his foot and slid closer until those pervy eyes were mere inches away from the kneeling man. "You see, Dean wants you. Lucifer wants you. The one who controls you controls the both of them."

Castiel lifted his chin up and narrowed his eyes. "I will not let you control me."

That made Crowley guffaw. "Oh, Castiel. Sweet, naïve Castiel," he tsked. "Don't you know by now that my wish is your command? Right now my wish is to put that sweet mouth of yours to good use."

"No!"

"No?" Crowley repeated with one raised eyebrow.

Castiel glowered. "You promised Dean you would do me no harm."

"What do I care?" Crowley snickered. "We both know nothing will come out from this room."

"I will tell Dean!" Cas snarled. "He will kill you."

Suddenly Cas was grabbed by the back of his head, yanked backwards so hard it hurt. "By all means, please do," Crowley taunted in his face. "But if you think what Lucifer did to you was bad, I can make Dean suffer much worse. How many people do you think want to ruin Dean, given the chance? You wanna find out?"

The shackles dug into his wrists as Castiel tried desperately to pull Crowley's hold away. It wasn't of much help. The chains restrained him, keeping those arms out of reach. The throb in his head was hardly bearable; distress escaped his lips in whimpered wafts.

The pain was not relieved when his face was pushed forward into the warden's crotch; the side of Cas' nose squashing along the hardened length. He could even feel sagging balls and coarse pubic hairs through the fabric of the crisp pant suit. The tang of arousal made him feel nauseated.

"Don't try anything stupid," Crowley hissed while his free hand unbuttoned his slacks. Panic settled as Castiel fought to draw his head back, but it was firmly fixed where Crowley wanted it to be.

Cas calmed himself, holding his breath and instead using the close proximity to shield where his arms were bound. He clumsily removed the paper clip from the waistband of his pants, grateful that Dean insisted he kept it hidden there at all times.

_Dean—_

Tears started flowing from Cas' eyes when he thought of how disappointed Dean would be if he saw him now. Everything they had tried so hard to build together was collapsing again because Cas was _weak_ _ness_. He was worthless — a piece of trash Dean should have thrown away long ago.

"Aww, look at you," Crowley cooed as he grabbed Cas' chin and turned it sideways to admire his dampened face. "So pretty when you cry. Keep them flowing while I fuck that fine face of yours."

The creeper pulled his cock out of the open zipper. Castiel screeched and recoiled despite the death grip at the back of his head. Fear tingled the fiber of his skin, giving him chills. His heart sped up. A prayer of _Dean, Dean, Dean_ rang helplessly in his ears.

"Open your God damn mouth!" Crowley bawled. He tried to force his cock past Castiel's lips, but Cas kept them shut. Tossing his head in disgust, Cas' lips brushed over the head of that fattened flesh, leaving on them a sickening taste.

Crowley ceased his imposition, even more enraged. "What's it gonna be, huh? Should I call Dean here, have him watch you for the whore you really are?"

Castiel whimpered. He couldn't have Dean here. Dean couldn't see what he had become. It would break Dean's heart. It would break _his_ heart. He could do this. He could just suck the skeeve off, get it over with, and Dean would be none the wiser.

Shakily, he willed his mouth open.

Crowley broke into a lopsided smile. He made a tentative thrust, moaning in pleasure as hot heat enveloped the sensitive prick. Cas gagged and choked back tears, reminding himself to focus on where he was not being held — the very first lesson his martial arts teacher had taught him. Resolving to simply drop his jaw and let Crowley maneuver his way in, Cas' fingers made deftly work of uncuffing himself underneath.

Castiel held the unlocked handcuffs in place while he contemplated his choices. He could try putting up a fight, but his ankles were still bound. There was also this room that he needed to search. Who knew when they would be able to come here again if he aggravated the situation? Dean's freedom was much more important that his dump of a body.

Three knocks were heard from the door. Cas startled, but Crowley just held his head tight and increased the pace, completely ignoring the intruder, or the fact that Castiel was fighting his way off.

That must be Dean. Dean could not see this. Dean could know nothing about this.

"Crowley"

Cas shivered, instinctive tears spilled from his eyes. There was no mistaking that voice, even though it was muffled, spoken from the other side of the wall.

"Sod off! I'm busy," Crowley bellowed. He did nothing to hide the obscene gruff that came out with his utterances. Anybody with half an ear could easily know what was happening behind closed door.

The knocks became unrelenting bangs. Crowley huffed in annoyance but did not slow his movements. Castiel feebly made a frightened sound. He had no idea which threat was more terrifying, but, at this point, he might be glad that his perpetrator decided he couldn't be bothered with the visitor.

"DEA's here!"

That announcement got Crowley to stop. He tucked his quickly deflated cock back in his pants and harshly shoved Castiel away.

"Run along now. Keep your mouth shut if you don't want Dean to get hurt," Crowley warned, then flew out of the room, leaving Castiel sitting back on his heels; his hair a tangled mess, his throat abused. Through the crack of the door, Castiel could see Lucifer watching him, casting a forlorn, melancholy look through his pale blue eyes.

As soon as Lucifer went after his Master, Cas threw his handcuffs away and unshackled his legs. He bolted to the door, closed and locked it. Stifling his nausea, Castiel began his search.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your reviews!
> 
> /EDIT/ Guys! I'm still here. It might be a while until the next update, though, RL and such. Hang on.


	22. Timebomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long ass absence. Good news is, the rest of the story is (mostly) finished, so it will be steadily updated from now on.

"Cas, you're back early!"

Castiel was escorted back to his cell after Crowley had left his office to attend to the visiting DEA officers. Dean promptly dropped the book he was reading and stepped out of bed, flashing a bright smile.

"I was dismissed," Cas responded coldly, shooting past where Dean stood. He climbed onto the upper bed and flopped flat on his stomach, face to the wall, leaving no space for Dean to settle next to him.

Long silence fell heavy on them. Now that Castiel was back in his cell, he could practically feel the ugliness seeping out of his every pore, searing the span of his skin. He didn't need to look to know Dean was assuming that little puzzled look on his face: the one that had Dean's eyebrows knitted in the center. What he would do to place his fingers there, leisurely smoothing those troubled lines.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"Nothing"

Cas scowled at the wall for the reply that slipped off his lips a little too quickly. It was this kind of blunder that would tip Dean off. No matter what he had threatened Crowley, he had no intention of letting Dean know what went down between him and the warden.

"Well, did you get to search the office?" Dean inquired. Of course, Cas was in the wrong to assume Dean would at all be wavered by Cas' strange demeanor, or that Dean would care more about him than that piece of evidence he needed to find. Its importance was apparently unrivalled.

"I did." Cas kept his voice as neutral as he could. He didn't want to come back here, if it was up to him. He didn't want to face Dean, but that kind of liberty was not a luxury offered in prison.

"Find anything?"

Cas sighed, "Yes"

"And where is it?" Dean pressed on.

"Somewhere safe"

"What do you mean somewhere safe?"

Castiel didn't miss the agitated tone in Dean's voice. "It means somewhere safe," he retorted. "I'll give it to Sam when he comes tomorrow."

"What do you mean—"

"I'm tired, Dean!" Cas snapped. He knew his place. He knew all Dean cared about was his task, and not him. "Leave me alone."

Cas' chest tightened at the last word. Did he just ask Dean to leave him for now, or for good? Maybe Dean should leave him, period. Cas was nothing but a whore. His life would be much easier by himself; he wouldn't need to worry whom he might hurt or disappoint, what hope or future his filthy self might shatter.

Tears flowed down his eyes, and Castiel let them. He forced himself not to sniffle, because even the faintest sound or the slightest movement would serve as a telltale sign, letting Dean know what he was hiding behind his stoic posture.

Who was he kidding? How could he think he could keep what happened between him and Crowley unknown to Dean, when Dean was this close and all he wanted was to seek comfort in Dean's loving touches? All he longed for was to hear Dean say that he had done well and everything was going to be alright.

But it was out of the question. Instead of finding solace, the truth would crush Dean. This place would be torn to shreds in Dean's frenzy. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know. Even Crowley knew it, and he was betting on Cas' fortitude to keep the ground intact. A trait Castiel wished he never demonstrated.

Enduring some pervert fucking his face was far easier than this.

Castiel shivered when a familiar hand softly petted his head. He swallowed his whimper and sniffed back his frailty that was on the verge of collapsing.

"Cas, baby, what's wrong?" Dean asked, his fingers still carding through Cas' hair, his voice as tender as his caress.

Cas' throat closed in on him. He could hide it no longer. There was no point. There was no denying the obvious. "Go away, please," he choked out instead.

He should have listened to Dean. What a fool he was to think he could handle Crowley on his own. His folly had ripped them apart, and now he had to let Dean go.

"Where can I go, Cas? I only have you. Where can I go?"

Cas sat upright. He wanted to argue that there were a hundred places Dean could go to, and ninety-nine of them were where Cas wasn't. But it was a mistake. As soon as he moved, he had an armful of Dean.

Cas struggled, but Dean shushed him. Dean shushed him and held him tight until Cas gave up his fight. Dissolving into tears, words of apologies poured from his lips, asking Dean for forgiveness, begging Dean not to take revenge. His throat was parched, his nose blocked, and his eyes were swollen so bad it hurt. Still, he couldn't hold it in, washed over by feelings of warmth and security begotten from Dean's embrace.

He may need to keep up his tough façade in front of everyone, but in presence of Dean, he could throw away his masquerade. He could be weak, be vulnerable, and be safe.

Dean remained silent all through his sobbing, his grasp strong, unyielding. When Cas quieted down, Dean pulled him back enough to see. "You're crying your pretty eyes out again," he commented casually. Grabbing a clean piece of undershirt, Dean wiped Cas' face with it. Then he held it over Cas' nose and ordered him to blow.

Cas was reluctant, naturally.

"Come on. You need to breathe," Dean nudged.

Cas took the shirt from Dean, and blew his nose. After he finished cleaning his face, which Cas was sure was a puffy mess right now, he got a full-on beaming Dean in front of him.

"There you go." Seemingly satisfied that Cas had stopped crying, Dean teased, "Kiss me, maybe?"

And Cas was tempted. He couldn't help being fascinated by those luscious lips. Dean always had a smile for him — when they were happy, when they were sad. When Dean masked their misfortunes behind his impassive countenance, it was solid enough for the both of them.

That was, until Cas remembered where his mouth had been. He drew back, suddenly realizing he would never be able to kiss Dean again.

"Whoa, Cas, sorry." Holding both hands in front of him, Dean was quick to remedy, but was it ever quick enough? "It's fine. Come on, it's fine."

He expected Dean to lash out, to demand answers, to throw his fist into the wall. That was the Dean he knew. Instead, Dean seemed collected, like the calm before the storm. It was as if Dean had everything all mapped out: he could decipher Cas' dirty secrets with littlest clues; he had his vengeance plan kicking into gear, and no matter how much Cas begged Dean not to, he could never prevent the outcome.

Cas grabbed the soiled undershirt and heaved into it.

When Cas finished, Dean carefully balled up the shirt and jumped to the floor to throw it in the trash bin. He gestured for Cas to follow him. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up," he said.

Cas swung his legs over the bed railing, and Dean hauled him down. He let Dean take off his shirt, rinse his mouth and clean his face with tap water. Dean dressed him with a fresh prison scrub and laid him down on the lower bed. When they settled, Dean carefully kissed his forehead.

"Get some rest. No one can hurt you now."

He _did_ want to hear that, but, somehow, hearing it now was much scarier than he'd ever admit.

~:~:~

"Took you long enough"

Sitting with one leg up on the other, reclining on the leather chair behind his work desk, the warden commented before blowing the nails he was filing, without looking up.

"You said you wouldn't hurt him," Dean hissed. He might be in cuffs and chains, but it took more than physical restraints to stop him from ripping the man's throat.

Heedless of the prisoner's temper, Crowley blew his nails a few more times and carefully placed the file on his desk. He turned to look Dean in the eyes, his gaze cold, daunting. "I changed my mind."

"What," Dean growled; his entire body trembled from pent-up anger, "do you want?"

Crowley remained still, like he was being patient, waiting, expecting — though the sneer at the end of his sentence betrayed him. "I believe we already had that conversation, Dean."

Dean's nostrils flared, then he closed his eyes and took one long, deep breath, willing his frantic heartbeat still. "What do I have to do?" He tried again. His voice shook, but only slightly.

Because Dean needed an opportunity to be in this room, to see if Cas' _somewhere safe_ was right under Crowley's nose.

The warden's lips curved up into a lopsided smile. "Now we are talking," he said. Getting up from his seat, Crowley rounded his desk and took the keys from the prison guard. He walked over to unlock Dean's cuffs.

Inches away from him, Dean never wondered why he didn't take that chance to cut off Crowley's breath and end the story, right there.

And if Crowley knew what Dean was capable of, he didn't show fear. Instead, he remained where he was, even after Dean was free. Both of them fixed their stare at each other. None of them backed down.

Finally, it was the warden who spoke. "I don't want your obligation, Dean. I want your loyalty. Be my Dean Winchester, my glorious partner in crime," he leered.

Dean shivered with disgust. He didn't know what'd gotten into him, allowing Cas to be alone in the room with this sicko. He should have gone with his other plan; the plan that was a day too late, but was now kicking into gear.

"We could rule this hell together, you and I," Crowley continued.

Dean let his signature smug smile creep up his face, victory a sight not too far to see, burning like fire in his eyes.

~:~:~

His eyelids felt heavy. The familiar voice seemed distant, yet cozy.

"Cas, baby, wake up."

Castiel forced his eyes open. Dean was not lying on the bed, but towering over him. It was still dark, yet Dean was fully awake.

And alert, if he might add.

"Dean?"

Dean shushed him before he could say another word. "We need to leave, now."

Cas would have thought he was dreaming, if not for the urgent tone in Dean's voice. He remembered going to sleep, curling up with Dean. After the morning incident, they had lunch together; neither of them touched their food. Then Dean disappeared all afternoon. He didn't see Dean again until after the last call of the evening, when Dean kept telling him he didn't need to go back to Crowley's office; that everything had been taken care of.

Dean ripped the top bunk mattress with his bare hands; couldn't care less whether he would be punished for ruining government property. He took out what looked like, from the glimpse Cas caught, a makeshift weapon, and tucked it under his clothes.

Cas was grateful it was not given to him. He had no idea how to keep the sharp object without cutting himself, let alone use it.

Grabbing his hand, Dean led them past their cell gate, which was, shockingly, left open. He was pretty sure it was securely shut when he fell asleep.

Walking down the hall, Cas noticed it was not only their cell that had its gate left open, but all other cells as well. He gasped. Most inmates were still out like a light, oblivious to their freedom at hand.

"Dean, what's going on?" Cas asked.

Instead of giving a reply, Dean shushed him. He approached a prison guard, who stood in the hallway, stupefied, if Cas' eyes were not deceiving him.

"Walk quietly with me," Dean whispered to the officer, but Cas was familiar with the soft tone enough to easily catch it. Dean grabbed the unmoving man by the arm and paced to a door, Cas following close on their heels.

The trio passed the door to what Castiel knew was a control room. There were three other officers there and a lot of CCTV monitors lined up a wall. The screens were all blank.

Dean manually barred the door and asked, "What happened?"

When one of the officers replied, his tone was devastated. Beads of sweat scattered across his forehead. "We seem to have lost all electronics control. All doors were unlocked and we can't shut it back down. All surveillance is gone and we lost all kinds of communication."

Suddenly there was a sound of explosion; loud enough to make all of them cower. If any inmates were conked out previously, they were sure as hell wide awake now.

"Get out of here, all of you," Dean rushed the officers to the other exit. "Grab everyone along the way. Run fast and get some help. This place is going to erupt soon." When they were stunned, Dean barked, "Now!"

Dean grabbed the last officer before he could slip through the door. "Where's Garth?" he asked.

"He's on the hotbox tonight." As soon as he replied, the officer sprinted away.

"Shit," Dean cussed. He looked anxious for a second, before noises started forming behind the door to their block. Dean darted for it.

"I need to find Gabriel and Chuck," Dean said to Castiel, one hand clutching the bolt. His face was fierce and feral, the kind that sent chills running down Cas' spine. "Do not open this door to anyone but me, understood?"

Cas shivered as Dean thundered his command. "What have you done, Dean?" he asked. His voice came out smaller than he'd have liked it to be, but the gravity of what was happening before them frightened him. "I told you not to do anything. Why are you doing this?"

Dean's glare directed at him was nothing if not deadly. Without doubt Crowley's sexual violation on him must have been the last straw. Dean had had enough and had resolved to doing everything _his_ way.

Cas couldn't help thinking of the casualty tolls that would accumulate. There was a blast which meant there was a fire. Firemen would not be sent in unless order was restored. Emergency Response Team could not quell the unrest unless the fire was quenched, and so on. It would take _hours_ before all could be subdued, by which time they would be long gone, no turning back. Dean was viciously wicked to come up with this plan.

"You need to have more faith in me, Cas," Dean said crossly. "This is not my doing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	23. Stormur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end note is kinda spoilery for the next chapters, so don't read if you don't want to spoil yourself.
> 
> The next one will be updated next year. Meanwhile, Happy Holidays!

Through the small glass window of the door, Castiel watched what went down in their dormitory. Some inmates wandered groggily, still woozy with sleep. A crowd had formed near the building's windows, gesturing and murmuring about what Castiel assumed was the fire. Those who were quick enough had already slipped through the exit on the other side of the hall.

He saw some of Lucifer's men, who obviously weren't affected and didn't care about what was going on beyond their pen. Their eyes were focused, intent on striking any convenient body they found.

All of a sudden, there was a bang on his door, followed by a face of an inmate that appeared through the small window. Castiel promptly retreated backwards.

"Castiel, open up, please. They are going to hurt me."

Even though he knew the door was locked, he cautiously stepped closer until he got a better look on the face. "Andy?" Cas quickly unbolted the door when he recognized who it was.

After Andy slipped through, Castiel secured the door one more time. He hadn't seen Andy since they worked together in laundry, before his incident with Lucifer. It might not be the best time, but at least he was glad to see a friendly face once again.

When he turned, however, Cas got a square fist in the jaw.

"That was for the punch Dean threw at me," Andy spat. He aimed for another blow, but Cas was faster. The heel of Cas' palm struck under Andy's chin, knocking him backward with the force, rendering him unconscious.

Another bang was heard from the door. Cas spun around and sighed with relief when he saw Dean through the glass window.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean wailed as soon as he came in and saw Andy lying out cold on the floor. "What part of  _'Don't open the door to anyone but me'_  didn't you understand?"

"Don't be such a wuss, Dean. Kid's still alive."

As soon as he heard the familiar voice, Castiel bolted into Gabriel's arms. His mentor smiled fondly, ruffling his hair. "Where's Chuck?" Cas asked when he did not see the small inmate following them in.

"I couldn't find him anywhere," Dean replied. "Come on, we need to move. I need to find Garth before he's beaten into a pulp. Cas, you go with Gabriel. He knows the drill."

"No, I'm not leaving you." Cas rushed to Dean's side, gripping his hand tight.

"You can't go with me." Dean's tone went softer as he cupped Cas' face with his free hand, his thumb tracing circles along the stubble. "Gabe is heading to the infirmary. I to the hotbox. You'll be safer with him."

"Let me go with you. I can help you," Cas insisted.

Dean shook his head. "I can't. You know it'll kill me if anything happened to you again."

"Nothing—"

But Cas' words were cut short by Dean placing a finger on his lips. He was met with an unspoken reproach, reminding him of what happened the last time Cas thought nothing could do him harm.

"Alright" He accepted his defeat. "Be safe, Dean."

"I will," Dean reaffirmed, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "I love you."

Castiel pulled Dean back, kissing him deeply. If this was going to be their last, he was going to make it a proper one. "I love you, too," he breathed.

"I promise I'll meet you on the other side."

Cas didn't have a chance to ask what Dean meant by 'the other side' as Gabriel started to throw his tantrum. "Chop, chop, you lovebirds. I don't want to die in here because you two were busy making out."

Before his teacher could form another snappy remark, Cas stormed out the exit. He knew the sooner Dean reached solitary confinement, the safer he'd be.

~:~:~

On the way to the infirmary, Cas and Gabe encountered a few other people. Some inmates kept their distance, while others couldn't resist trying their luck, and as a result were easily knocked out by either one of them. They also came across a group of inmates attacking an officer. It was not easy taking a bunch of adrenaline-fuelled inmates out, but they did it. Sending the officer on his way, Castiel prayed he wouldn't run into any other prisoner.

"What did Dean mean by 'you know the drill'?" Cas asked when he had a little time to wrap his head around what was happening. It was hard to believe this was not Dean's doing, since Dean seemed to know very well how to handle the situation.

"Sam," Gabriel replied, scowling at an inmate who quickly walked past them. "That boy. He had plotted plans A-Z for every kind of situation, if you ask me. He knows Dean is a hot-head, rather act on instinct and improvise than think ahead. But, in this place, that sort of attitude would only send him faster to his grave. So yeah, they kind of made plans. Though Dean only does it to appease his brother. You know what a sucker he is for those puppy dog eyes."

"So what are the plans?"

"We walk out of here." Gabriel just shrugged his shoulders when Castiel gawked at his reply. "Believe it or not, we're better off outside. At least prisoners are secured. We're not walking out as prisoners, though," Gabriel said with a wink.

Castiel was going to continue his queries, but Gabriel signaled for him to be quiet. They had reached Dr. Sebastian's office. The room was trashed. It was dark inside, but they could make out a motionless silhouette: the lower half of a big man in orange jumpsuit. He was hanging, face down, over what used to be a glass window of the door that led to the observation room. The one Castiel used to stay in.

Gabriel tentatively poked the man, but he did not so much as stir. Cas stepped closer. The guy's upper body was draped on the bed that barricaded the inside of the door. That was a trick Castiel once used to keep outsiders out. There were trails of blood across the guy's shirt. Gabe felt for his pulse.

"Is he dead?" Cas whispered.

Gabriel shook his head, then he shouted. "Doc! Are you in there?"

From the opening, Castiel could see the door to the toilet inside the observation room slowly open; Dr. Sebastian cautiously peeking out.

"Gabriel?"

"Doc!" Gabriel cried, voice laced with terror. "Why are you here?"

"Yeah," the physician replied self-consciously, making his way out of the restroom. "Some personal shit happened. I decided to take the night shift so I didn't have to go back home. It just so happened to be the night all hell breaks loose."

"Then why the hell didn't you leave?"

"I tried," Balthazar sighed. "But some inmates fighting over meds were blocking my way, so I retreated back here, trashed the room so it looks like there's nothing left. Then I locked myself in, barring the door like I saw you did," he gestured to Castiel. "This one wasn't convinced, though. He smashed the window, so I shot him some sedatives. Figured leaving him here, adding some blood for good measure, might keep everyone else out while I hid and waited for help."

"Neat trick," Gabriel commended in admiration. Cas would go so far as to say he was flirting if it wasn't out of place. "But this place is not secured. No help is coming in. You're coming with us."

Balthazar seemed flustered for a second, before he started working on moving the bed. As soon as the door was open, Gabriel rushed in and went straight into the toilet. There was a sound of something getting smashed. Both Balthazar and Castiel ran in to see Gabriel pick some things up from the debris on the floor. A small hole was visible in the ceiling.

"What the—" Balthazar cried.

"You shouldn't let Dean spend too much time in here, doc," Gabriel said with a wink. In his hands were ID cards. He handed two to Castiel. "Now we go get our costumes. I've always wanted to play nurse."

Ignoring Gabriel's overenthusiasm, Castiel looked at the two IDs he held. "Dean's is here. How are we going to give it to him?"

"We're not." Gabriel shrugged one shoulder. "If Dean's going to the hotbox, he'll have to round back past two dorms. The nearest exit would be staff entrance."

"No, he can't," Balthazar blurted out. "The blast. It came from admin building. There's a fire there."

As soon as Balthazar finished his sentence, there was another explosion. The rattling on the wall suggested it wasn't far from where they were. Showers of dust rained on them as Gabriel tried to stop Cas from taking off. "Don't go. Dean will be fine. Plan A-Z, remember?"

But it wasn't Dean he worried about. It was the account book that he had gotten from Crowley's office. The one piece of evidence that would get Crowley and Dean on different sides of the bars. He had forgotten all about it since the mayhem. Now he was going to retrieve it. He had to.

"Get Dr. Sebastian out of here. Don't worry about me."

And if his teacher hollered a few profanities after him, Castiel was happy to pretend he did not hear.

~:~:~

Doubling back into the facilities was not a very breezy experience. Add unhinged doors to two explosions, possibly more, the place had turned chaotic. Most inmates did not think it was safe or wise to leave the facilities and get shot by whoever waited for them behind those exits, so they stayed in, trying to stay away from the fire. Castiel wondered idly whether Sam's plan A-Z included a fire situation as well.

"Hey!" Castiel barked. He wished he hadn't come across this. He had no time to waste. But that officer was badly battered and bloodied. Any more blows and he might not live to see his wife or children at all.

The inmates that turned his way were all big, but that was not the problem. They all had this animalistic gleam in their eyes that reminded Castiel of his former assailants.

"You wanna play, pretty?" One of them leered while the other two snickered.

There were only three of them. He could do this.

Castiel straightened himself. "What if I do?" he led on, waiting until the first guy moved close enough. He elbowed him in the face; his nose cracking upon impact. The guy yowled as blood ran down his nose and mouth. Cas blocked a swing from the second guy, which was returned with two right hooks that sent him off-balance. The third guy captured Castiel in a bear hug. He quickly broke out of by stomping on the knee and butting him backwards on the head. When the grip loosened, Castiel turned to kick him straight in the groin, sending him flying into the other inmate. They both scrambled to their feet and scurried away.

One inmate remained. They put their arms up in defensive stances and eyed each other. Cas easily dodged the swing the man took at him, but the following left jabs got him good. His skin prickled as his opponent threw his right arm. Cas clutched it by his side, locking them close while Cas kneed him in the stomach. Then he grabbed the side of the guy's head and slammed it into the wall. His fellow inmate slid down to the floor, hopefully not dead.

Castiel dragged the unconscious officer out of the hallway and into a room. Those three guys might not be the first ones who had their hands and feet on the poor guard. They did not have enough skills to take out a trained officer on their own. Castiel stripped the officer down to his undergarments, laying him close to the wall, face down, in the hopes that he would pass as an inmate and remain alive long enough until proper help found him.

He wasn't even near any dormitories, but if this was what happened to an officer, he genuinely feared for Dean and Garth who were treading among the vilest beasts. 'See you on the other side' might not mean the other side of the wall after all, but the great beyond.

~:~:~

Smoke clouded the corridor. It wasn't thick enough to black him out, but enough to irritate his eyes. He kept his head low as he walked; covering his nose and mouth with the extra clothing he carried. Just around this corner and he would reach his destination.

Castiel picked the door open with practiced ease. Switching on the light, he pried open the locker keeping that vital piece of evidence. It wasn't there.

"Looking for this?"

Lucifer leaned on the door frame. In his hand was the account book Castiel had procured from Crowley's office.

"Give it to me," Cas hissed through gritted teeth.

Stepping inside, Lucifer closed and locked the door behind him. For one step he took forward, Castiel took one step back. A few paces in, and his back already hit the far end wall.

"You know," Lucifer started. "I'm flattered you use our special meeting place to keep something this important. I remember the first time we met, here, your breath hot on my hand, your heart thumping in your chest. Almost like falling in love, wasn't it?"

"You're sick," Cas spat, disgust laced in his voice. If this weren't the only impregnable room in this place, there was no way he would've come back here. It might have just proven to be a mistake.

There was a pained expression on Lucifer's face. He scoffed. "We could have been so much more together, but you had to choose Dean. Tell me, what did he do that I did not? He touched you. I touched you. I was your only friend when everyone else turned a blind eye to the crime Dean did to you. I still am your only friend!"

"Lucifer" Castiel tried to calm the man down, but the sharp glare Lucifer sent his way made him realize he uttered the wrong name. "Nick," he corrected himself. "Why don't you give me the book and we both can get out of here. This place is soon going into flames."

Holding the book in his hand, Lucifer dared, "If you want it so bad, why don't you come get it?"

Cas willed his legs to move; he really did. It would be so easy to knock Lucifer out, take the book, leave and never return. So easy, if his body didn't have a different idea.

"That's what I thought," Lucifer smirked. Castiel watched in utter shock as Lucifer threw the book upward. It disappeared onto the top of the locker cabinet, which stood directly behind the only person he dared not have close contact with.

"That was your ticket out of here, wasn't it?" Lucifer sneered. He inched nearer, his gait that of a beast of prey. "I knew you and that lawyer brother of Dean were up to something. So, yeah, maybe I lied to the warden, knowing DEA is the only excuse that would get him out of the room. Then I followed you. Oh, and if you were told that visitation was cancelled, then you were also lied to. Sam was waiting for you all day. Poor Dean ran around the block, trying to locate the one place you obviously never told him about. How sweet of you."

Cas shivered as the back of Lucifer's hand grazed over his cheek. "You know what?" Castiel breathed, attempting to still his voice as best he could even though his body was trembling. Despite the fire outside, the solid wall against his back was chilly enough to numb his fingers. "Why don't you take the book and let me go. Use it to take down Crowley and gain yourself some freedom."

Lucifer let out a menacing cackle that made Cas' skin crawl. "I would have killed that Toad myself for touching you," he spat, his eyes projecting death and destruction. "If he wasn't such a coward and burn this place down when he realized he was done for. Your detective skills were impressive, by the way," Lucifer cooed. His lips were impossibly close; Castiel could feel the clammy breath on his cheek. "He wouldn't have noticed anything missing if I didn't tip him off."

"Get off me!" Cas screamed the moment Lucifer nuzzled under his jaw. His attempt to fight Lucifer off was in vain, as Lucifer seemed to effortlessly overpower him. "Dean!" he shouted out instead, panic and fear coiling in his guts. "DEAN!"

Lucifer chortled. "Call him. Call Dean! See if he can come to your rescue this time," he taunted with a pleased smirk. "He could be dead by now. Do you know Dean has a price on his head? All of Crowley's men, hundreds of inmates from all buildings, are gunning for him. You, on the other hand," Castiel struggled as Lucifer squeezed the back of his thigh, yanking them close; the outline of Lucifer's hard-on burning against Cas' groin, "You are only mine to touch, and once this is all over, we will be sent to a new facility, where you and I will share a cell, and it'll be my name you forever scream."

"DEAN!"

His cry did not come without accompanying tears. Lucifer shoved his hands past the waistband of Cas' pants, fondling the globes of his ass, making Cas' whole body shudder in abhorrence. Castiel shut his eyes, thinking of Dean, thinking of how little time they had together, with so many things they hadn't done. He'd rather die than have one more crime shatter what they had between them again. If Dean was dead, Cas might as well meet up with him in the hereafter.

~:~:~

"Dean?"

"What?" Dean scowled at the inmate calling his name. Right now he was half-dragging, half-carrying a limp Garth, who donned only bloody undershirt and boxers. Dean was no better. He had cuts and bruises all over, and a gash near his left brow that he believed was still dripping. Only one turn, and they would be on their way out of here.

"Castiel is not with you?" the inmate, who Dean now recognized as one of his loyalists, asked with a frown. He looked, Dean might say, frightened.

That got Dean halted. "No, why?"

"I," he stammered. "I think I heard him call your name. Then I thought I must be hallucinating because surely he, he must be with you, but, but—"

"Where?" Dean growled. How he managed to grapple the guy's shirt without dropping the unconscious Garth was beyond him.

"You know what they called 'the ghost room', near Maintenance?"

"If you fucking mess with me," Dean threatened. He knew Cas went with Gabriel. They should be safely out of here by now. Everyone knew that 'the ghost room' was the room that never opened. This could easily be a trap.

The other inmate quickly raised his hands in a placating manner. Dean knew, in other circumstances, this man would never cross him. But since Andy betrayed him, and as a result got Cas badly hurt, Dean didn't know who to trust anymore.

Still, if he didn't go check it out, and something happened to Cas, Dean wasn't sure he could ever forgive himself.

"Take him." Dean hauled Garth into the other man's arms. "Get him out of here. He needs a medic."

"No fucking way, man," the inmate wailed. "I'm not going out there."

"You wanna walk out of here in one piece," Dean terrorized. "Or should I beat you senseless and have them wheel you out on a stretcher, along with him?" he finished his sentence with a nod to the passed-out guard.

The inmate reluctantly carried Garth away. Dean watched until they rounded the corner, where he knew they would be safely out, then set out backtracking.

He was only halfway there when he came to a screeching halt.

"Where's the fire, Dean?"

The joke died on those lips as Dean matched the intimidating look sent his way. Cortez always hated Dean's guts. It also didn't help that the last time he shared a cell with Cas, it turned out very poorly for the Mexican inmate. Right now, he had four other lackeys with him, all with a shank of their own, all looking hungry for some action. It would be no problem for Dean at all, if all his muscles were not groaning in protest. He had just taken out half of the inmates in solitary. He wasn't sure he had enough strength to take down five others, who were pumped with vengeance.

"Look," he tried to clear the air, even though his hand was clutching his makeshift weapon at the ready. "Why don't we save this for another time and run the hell outta here before it all goes to ruins?"

"Yeah, sounds like a plan," Cortez nodded, but the murderous gleam in his eyes betrayed his words. "Once it all burned down, it will take forever to find your charred remains, and impossible to tell what, or who, killed you."

A shrill laughter reverberated in Dean's ear as he barely dodged the first swing of the blade, its tip scraping his skin, weeping a thin red line.

~:~:~

"… _that set four buildings on fire. Department of Corrections spokesman Matthew Doherty said four correctional officers were critically injured, sixteen others sustained minor to major injuries. Seventy two inmates were injured, six confirmed dead. While the rest of the inmates were accounted for and transferred to nearby facilities within hours of the unrest, thirty-four of them remained missing. State Police and Sheriff's Office joined forces in a manhunt for those who are believed to have escaped during the riot. Civilians are advised to remain indoors and notify the authorities immediately of any suspicious activities. As I speak, a rescue effort has been started in order to locate prisoners among the ruins. While the death toll is expected to increase, the list of the deceased is as follows: Arthur Boyle, Lucas French, Nick Goddard a.k.a. Lucifer, Westley Johnson, Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester…"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This end note is kinda spoilery for the next chapters. Don't throw your fists at me just yet. I didn't put a warning on major character death, did I?


	24. If I Handle You with Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your reviews!

Dean flipped the meat in the pan, humming to a favorite tune on the stereo. It had been some time since he'd last heard the song. He'd forgotten the lyrics, but the melody never seemed to leave the back of his mind.

A familiar bulk form bumped into his back. Dean felt arms tighten around his waist, forehead press into his dirty short hair. His heart almost leapt out of his chest at the warmth.

"What are you doing up? You should be resting." Dean tried to hide his smile behind his gentle reprimand. He badly wanted to plant light kisses on that brow, but the firm squeeze wouldn't let him turn around.

"I hate this place."

Cas' grumble was muffled. Still, Dean could catch the signature whiny tone in it. "What, already?" he responded with a relaxed chuckle. Dean nimbly flipped a pancake in the second pan with a spatula; the buttery scent assailing his nostrils, making his stomach rumble excitedly.

"You weren't there when I woke up. You're always there when I wake up."

Dean's heart dropped. Cas was right. When they were in the confinement of their cell, Dean always had the pleasure of greeting Cas the moment he opened his eyes. Now that they were free, Dean was more eager for food than comfort, it turned out.

He switched off the gas, maneuvering his way until he could turn around. Sure enough, Cas' face was crestfallen. Dean was even more saddened by it.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, putting his arms around Cas in a loose embrace. He should have waited a little longer, at least until Cas was awake. "I figured I'd serve you breakfast in bed. Apparently, it was a bad idea."

Swiftly, Cas ducked his head to nuzzle under the crook of Dean's neck, effectively turning Dean's sheepish look into a contented one. His hands slipped under the hem of Dean's shirt, fingers digging sharply into Dean's flesh. If this was a weird way Cas showed his forgiveness, Dean was sure as hell not complaining, especially not when Cas' lips made their way up until he could purr into Dean's ear, "I want  _you_  in bed."

Dean shivered, blood scurrying to his nether region by the way Cas punctuated his needs with each syllable. He couldn't believe it had slipped his mind how clingy Cas could be in the morning. "Tomorrow, okay? I'll make it up to you," Dean promised, his voice coming out hoarse due to the state of his arousal. "We'll stay in bed as long as you want."

But Cas stopped his ministrations. He dropped his arms to the sides and simply rested his head on Dean's shoulder. "I hate that bed," he mumbled, carrying with it an air of dejection. "It's too big."

Dean choked back his whimper, stifling the urge to pull Cas' hands back to where they were. God, that bed was a dream came true to Dean, six feet breadth of comfy mattress. He could think of fifteen ways they could screw on that vast surface alone. There was no way he would miss that damp, smelly excuse of a single bed they had had to cram in-

"You know what?" Dean cleared his throat, again feeling how much of an idiot he was. "Why don't we push the bed to the wall, and we can squeeze to one side. How does that sound?"

When they were inside, Cas wouldn't feel safe unless he had his back to the wall, and Dean between him and the world. They were no longer under any threat; Cas needed to learn that, but it didn't have to be over the span of one night.

Cas lightly nodded.

"Okay" Dean playfully smacked Cas' rear, trying to cheer him up. "You want to eat or shower first?"

Cas looked up, his blue eyes grew big in bewilderment. That was when Dean realized they never had to make this kind of mundane decision before. He was looking forward to making a lot more of them.

"Breakfast," Cas carefully replied, which made Dean break into a broad smile.

"Alright, princess, sit down." Dean dragged a chair to one end of the kitchen island, and practically hauled Cas on it. "Breakfast comin' right up!"

Cas was hunching over the island top, leaning on both of his elbows, when Dean asked if he wanted coffee. "Nothing fancy. Only coffee powder and hot water," Dean elaborated. At Cas' small nod, Dean turned to grab the necessary items. Cas made a quick work of dumping the single-served sachet into his mug, and stopped Dean before he could help pouring hot water into the cup.

Dean observed Cas pour in very little water, only enough to dissolve the contents into thick black liquid. He handed Cas the carton of milk when asked, and watched in utter horror as Cas filled the mug to the brim with it.

"Dude!" Dean cried, barely able to conceal the offended look on his face. "That's not coffee. That's — that's coffee-flavored milk!"

Cas gingerly stirred, which caused the milky liquid to fuse into pale brown, almost as if to work Dean up with the movement. It probably did the trick, as now Dean was rooted to the spot, gawking while Cas happily sipped his 'coffee-flavored milk' with a teasing smirk gracing the rim of his cup.

Dean was enchanted. Eyes gleaming, grinning, Cas looked rapturous at merely getting the simplest pleasure in life — the simple pleasure Dean was dead set to serve every morning from now on.

His heart thrummed when he realized the sappy resolution he had just made to himself. "Can I kiss you?" Dean breathed out instead, licking his lips as if it could calm his nervousness.

Cherry-colored strokes brushed across Cas' cheeks as he placed the cup on the table and lowered his gaze. Leaning over the island, Dean pressed their lips together. A creamy flavor lingered with every nibble, wafting with it a tinge of the rich coffee aroma. Dean pulled away with a sigh, imprinting in his mind a fragrance unique to the domesticity of their lives.

A small smile curved Castiel's lips. "I take it you like my coffee-flavored milk?" he teased.

"Not on my life," Dean denied half-heartedly, grateful for an opening to get out of the chick flick moment he had found himself entangled in.

Turning his back, Dean started arranging food in their plates: pancakes, from a mix that only needed to add water, canned spam cut and cooked in slices, and grilled pineapple rings made into a stack of Hawaiian sandwich, drizzled with honey. That would have to make do since they were hiding in a safe house. Dean was thankful they at least had boxed and canned food to eat.

Cas' eyes widened when Dean placed their plates on the island.

"Sorry," Dean made a self-conscious apology, "Sam will come with groceries later, so hopefully we'll have proper food tomorrow."

"This is gorgeous." Cas beamed, gripping Dean's hand tightly when he sat down. "Thank you, Dean."

Dean didn't need a mirror to see how a red hue crept up his neck and face. The food was mediocre to him, so he was surprised by the occasional moans that escaped Cas' throat. Come to think of it, he never saw Cas eat this enthusiastically. It was in that moment that Dean made up his mind. He'd make it his life mission to make sure Cas was well-fed and never lost his appetite again.

~:~:~

"What do you remember?" Sam carefully asked.

Right now Cas was savoring the barbequed pork ribs Sam had brought for them, in a civilized manner. Dean, on the other hand, gobbled the meat as if his life depended on it. Shiny brown sauce coated all ten of his fingers and smudged his lips. Bones were already piling next to his plate. Sam tried not to cringe but failed miserably. At least, Sam managed not to grouse and redirect his attention elsewhere.

"Not much," Cas answered with a shrug. "I was in and out of it the whole time. I saw Dean and I knew there was nothing to worry about."

Grabbing a towel, Dean wiped his hands and mouth and washed his food down with a big gulp of his beer. The food had lost its appeal once the memories of last night came back to mind. Awful was an understatement. Since the warden had gone missing, authorities had tried to handle the situation as best they could. Everyone was secured as soon as they came out of the buildings, prisoners and officers alike. Then they were identified by finger scanners. Prisoners were escorted to one side, while staff members were sent to the other. In whatever database they were using, his and Cas' came out as two of their own. They were sent on their way to where Sam had an ambulance waiting. After a mid-way vehicle change, they drove straight across the state border.

They both were badly injured. Luckily, after the initial check-up, there was no serious damage that required hospitalization. All their wounds and bruises were treated and patched up by the medic that came with Sam's ambulance, one of the FBI people, if Dean had to guess. He knew of nothing else since they had left the penitentiary.

"Maybe that's for the better," Sam mused over his salmon avocado salad.

"So, what now?" Dean inquired, tossing the spoiled towel over the heap of bones. "We hole up here until… when?"

"You two are officially dead, so it's not like anyone is looking for you," Sam clarified, taking a sip of his beer. After the outburst, Ash had altered the Department of Corrections' database and made Dean and Cas their employees. He erased his trail as soon as they were safely away. With help from a friend in Secret Service, they quickly arranged two deaths. There was no need for new identities, as all their records before today would be sealed. However, it would be best not to step into that state again, which, frankly, Sam never planned to even if it killed him. "Ellen needs you to stay here, though, until she deems it safe enough for you to move."

Pausing the beer bottle on his lips, Dean chuckled. His eyes shone almost wickedly. "So it means I have you at my beck and call until then?"

Sam scowled at his brother. "Unlike you, Dean, I've got work to do. Crowley is still on the loose."

A clank startled them both, breaking off their bickering. Turning around, they saw Castiel frozen in his seat; the fork perched over the rim of his plate. Dean quickly took a hold of Cas' hand.

"We'll get him. Don't worry," Sam reassured him. "DEA  _and_  FBI have their best men hunting him down. He won't get away, not with the evidence you procured for us."

"What," Castiel stuttered. He looked to Dean before he continued, his lips quivering, "What about Lucifer?"

"Lucifer is dead," Sam affirmed quickly. "Like, really, really, dead. I saw myself that it was actually his body."

But the more Sam spoke, the more distant Cas seemed, his eyes vacant, his fingers lightly trembled. Dean knew by experience Cas was having another episode.

"Cas!" Dean barked. Castiel jumped at the loud voice. "Look at me."

Cas snapped to the source of that sound; his eyes wide when he recognized Dean. He lurched forward, fingers digging into Dean's arms, adding to the bruises already there on Dean's body. Panic laced in the way Cas rasped, "Dean, I— I killed him."

"We'll get to that," Dean dismissed. There were more important things at hand. "Now breathe with me."

Sam watched as Dean told Cas how to breathe, creating a slow and deep rhythm for him to match. Cas still repeated the same words, albeit softer, even when his breathing had returned to normal.

"You didn't kill him, okay? I did," Dean said firmly.

Cas stopped dead in his tracks. Even Sam was gaping next to him.

"I'm sorry," Dean continued, trying to remain calm. "I know you told me not to do anything, but he was hurting you, and I lost it."

Loosening his grip on Dean, Castiel was lost in thought. His brows furrowed as if he was trying to remember the things that had happened last night. Finally, he murmured, almost to himself, "How did you—"

"I told you I'd come when you called, didn't I?" Dean replied with a warm smile.

Cas tilted his head. "You came for me?"

"Yeah" Dean shrugged. "Though I have to say the ghost room was a bitch to get to."

What Dean did not expect was for Cas to throw himself at him, knocking Dean out of breath. His injured ribs were squeaking in protest at the crushing force, and the bruises on his shoulder blades might have turned three shades darker with Cas digging his fingers into them. Anyhow, Dean embraced the man in his arms just as fiercely.

"I was so scared," Cas confessed. His voice was shaking, and so was his body. "I'd rather die than have him touch me again."

"You're safe now," Dean shushed him. The words reverberated in his ears as though to comfort himself. Cas was safe now. They were safe now. "He can't hurt you now. No one can hurt you now."

Dean shuddered. He could only imagine what had gone down between Cas and Lucifer, something horrible enough to have Cas call out for him. What Cas had done to make sure he would  _die_ , or be killed. It was nothing short of a miracle that Cas was still alive, breathing, crying next to his ear.

"You want to go get some rest?" Dean pulled away enough to get a look on Cas' face when he calmed down. Cas looked drained. His lips paled, his eyes drooping.

Cas weakly shook his head. "Your brother is here," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Dean darted a look at Sam, who sat awkwardly on his seat, the remainder of his food left untouched.

"Don't worry. He's not going anytime soon."

Fact was, Dean didn't know how long Sam would stay, or if he would spend the night. They had never gotten to that. Maybe that was why Cas was reluctant.

"Tell you what," Dean whispered, leaning in close enough he could feel the tip of Cas' dark hair tingling his lips. Cas shivered when hot breath brushed his ear. "I'll cuddle with you, if you don't tell Sam about it."

Cas quietly giggled, and if the butterflies in Dean's stomach fluttered in response, it wasn't like Dean had any control over them. They were bugs. They fluttered when they wanted to.

~:~:~

It was almost two hours later that Dean could emerge from the bedroom again. Sam was dozing off on the couch. A pet documentary was playing softly on TV.

"Sammy" Dean kicked lightly at his brother's shin, jerking him awake.

"Hey," Sam croaked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "How's he doing?"

"He's fine. Sorry about that," Dean apologized, but Sam just waved him off. "I can't leave him for long, though. Will you stay the night? There's a guest room."

Sam pushed himself off the couch, shaking his head. "I can't. Early day tomorrow." He'd rather drive back and maybe catch a couple hours of sleep before starting another hectic day. He started gathering his things. "Jo might stop by, but it will be a few days before I can come again. Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all. I can send someone over."

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean pulled Sam into a hug, briefcase and suit jacket hanging off his arm and all. That way he could avoid the awkwardness of getting one in return.

Still, Sam's face flushed red, evident even in the dim room, when they parted. Dean pulled the front door open and rushed Sam out before he could say anything.

"So, what will happen to Gabriel? Cas might want to know that," Dean asked when they reached Sam's car: a black SUV, probably one of the Bureau's.

Last night, when they had ditched the ambulance for another vehicle, Gabriel had decided to go separate ways. "Don't go," Sam had begged of him. "I can't help you if you don't go with me." But Gabriel just winked at him before taking off.

"They didn't find him during the manhunt. He was long gone. We had given him quite a head start," Sam grunted bitterly. He felt betrayed, and disappointed. "If they ever catch him, Dean. If he ever  _talks_."

Who knew what kind of measure Ellen would have to take to ensure the confidentiality of their mission. What Sam would have to do to keep his brother  _safe_ —

"He won't," Dean assured him with a pat on Sam's shoulder. "And Chuck?"

Sam shook his head wearily. "He wasn't in the list of people who came out of the building, so either he had escaped, or he was there, among the ruins."

Dean nodded solemnly. He was among the first people who knew of the faulty doors before the chaos, but even so Chuck wasn't there when Dean went to find him. Either way, his midget friend was gone, rather miraculously, as if he was never there.

Sam opened the door to the driver's side, but he paused, remembering something. "Dean," he blurted. "Why did you lie to him?"

"What?"

"You told me that when you found Cas, he was lying unconscious in the hallway, alone. Why did you say you killed Lucifer?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Didn't you see how he was? He had enough on his plate. He doesn't need another death on his shoulder."

"But we don't have the autopsy report yet. We don't even know how he died."

Truth was, Sam  _might_  know how Lucifer had died. He had gone to identify the body, and thus had met with the medical examiner. There were bruises on Lucifer's body, which Sam was sure some, if not all, would match Castiel's upon thorough examination. The doctor, however, suspected Lucifer died from asphyxia, which meant he was rendered unconscious and thus consumed too much carbon monoxide. They would have to wait for toxicology reports to confirm cause of death.

Dean shook his head. "Doesn't matter. He will believe what he wants to believe. Right now I'm glad he believes me. What?"

Sam was looking at him with that look on his face, the one that revealed how disappointed Sam was in his big brother.

"Really, Dean?" Sam asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. "You are going to start your new life with a lie?"

"It's not a lie, okay?" Dean countered, stammering on his words. "If he asked, when he is ready for the truth, I'll tell him. But today is not that day."


	25. A Sweet, Sweet Man

Dean jerked awake from his sleep. For a moment he couldn't remember where he was. The sky's coloring was slightly different than that of the penitentiary. Looking around, his eyes landed on a clock. It was six something. Dean flopped back down. He couldn't remember the last time he slept so deep he forgot to open his eyes before he needed to.

Cas' breathing was even in his sleep. Dean idly wondered how long he had to wait until the man next to him woke up, now that there was no siren blaring at seven o'clock sharp. Brushing a wayward strand of hair off the closed eyelids, Dean couldn't help an upward curl of his lips. He traced his fingers along the rough growth of stubble. Cas' jaw twitched at the touch. Maybe Cas would shave tonight.

Dean slid a little lower on the bed, resting on his elbows. When the arm that was nestled on Dean's waist dropped to the mattress, Cas tucked it under his cheek, his lips munching the air emptily. Well, if Cas was this dorky in his sleep, Dean didn't think he would get tired of his morning entertainment.

Cas didn't so much as stir when Dean touched their puckered lips together, slightly dry from an overnight's rest. He pecked Cas on the cheek, getting the desired response when Cas waved him away like he would a pestering fly. Dean was thinking of letting Cas back to his peaceful slumber. He really did, but the creamy skin that was exposed above the neckline of the oversized t-shirt was too tempting. A patch of a purple bruise that was visible with it made Dean growl with an urge to protect. Laying a kiss there in what Dean hoped was soothing—

Dean was shoved onto his back, followed by a massive body sprawling out on top of him. "Stop it." Cas' muffled grunt reached his ears.

"Ouch," Dean cried. "It hurts." When he successfully pushed Cas until he fell to Dean's other side, the weight dropping on the bed instead of on Dean's bruised ribs, he wheezed. Catching his breath, Dean realized he could only lift his head, high enough to get a faceful of Cas' tousled hair, and nothing more. His left side was pinned to the mattress. Dean decided against struggling, resorting to falling back to sleep. There was nothing much he could do when half of his body was immobile, anyway.

~:~:~

When Dean came to again, it was to the feeling of someone licking his jaw.

_Licking._

"Morning," Cas murmured into his skin. He was crouching over Dean, on his hands and knees to keep his weigh off him, nibbling now at the plump flesh of his shoulder like it was a sweet dessert.

"What time is it?" Dean slurred. He lifted his head up, trying to glance at the clock, but was shoved back.

"Nine," Cas supplied, moving now to kiss behind Dean's ear: the spot that made Dean's whole body shudder with want. Dean fumbled his groggy attempt to lock Cas in place, never ever wanting the ministration to stop. He could get used to waking up to this every morning.

Cas yelped when Dean rolled them over. "Good morning, gorgeous," Dean crooned with a grin, to which Cas returned with a shy smile. It never ceased to amaze him how Cas could turn from sexual prowess to bashful innocence in two seconds flat. "You hungry?" Dean asked instead. When Cas shook his head, he nodded. "Alright. What do you want to do?"

Cas rolled them over with unexpected force, giggling at the surprised look on Dean's face while straddling him. He bent down to peck Dean on the lips. "This," he said, grinning, keeping his face close but not at a near enough distance. Dean licked his lips in anticipation of the kiss that never came.

"You fucking tease," Dean grumbled, giving up his stance and grabbing Cas by the back of his neck, pulling him down for the kiss that was withheld. Cas laughed happily into his lips; his chuckles turned into whimpers when Dean sucked at his tongue. His muscles quivered where Dean was holding him. Dean smirked triumphantly then flipped them over.

Cas disappeared before his eyes.

"Cas!" Dean yelled. Looking over the edge of the bed, he saw Cas lying on the floor, wincing as he kneaded the back of his head.

Dean jumped by his side, helping as Cas tried to push himself up. "I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"

Cas seemed a little woozy at first, then glared daggers at him, which was how Dean knew Cas was going to be alright. "If you don't want me in bed with you," he groused. "You could have just said so."

Dean failed miserably to hide the amused grin on his face. Grumpy Cas was adorkable Cas. "Why wouldn't I want you in bed with me?" he said, leaning in instead to kiss those pouty lips. He took it as a good sign when Cas did not flinch away. "I want you  _forever_  in bed with me."

"I still hate this bed," Cas stubbornly grumbled, but the rosy blush on his cheeks gave him away.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Dean muttered, pulling Cas to his feet, pecking again the pouty lips that showed their owner was still in a sour mood. He took a mental note to show Cas later how good an asset their bed could be. "How about I make you some breakfast?" He tried lightening it up.

Cas sulked some more, but the half-hearted scowl told Dean he was no longer angry. "Just moments ago you want me forever in your bed," Cas bit through gritted teeth, extra emphasis on the word  _forever_. "Now you want me downstairs. Talk about a man's change of heart."

Snaking his hands around Cas' back, Dean pulled their hips that much closer, tighter. He caught Cas sucking in his breath; his lips trembled in that tiny rush of desire, which flickered away as soon as Dean noticed. "Let's grab something quick so we can return to bed. How does that sound?" Dean offered.

"Evasive"

Dean threw his head back, defeated. "Come on. I'll even make you your favorite coffee-flavored milk."

Cas glared daggers at him again, which effectively turned Dean's cocky grin into a sheepish smile.

"You'd better."

~:~:~

Sipping his coffee, Cas watched as Dean worked his magic in the kitchen, his poison of choice waiting within reach. Dean took his coffee black, with no sugar. Cas merely needed a small doze of caffeine to start the day. That was why he poured little coffee into his milk, and not the other way around. He was more of a tea person.

That was how different he and Dean were.

Dean looked happy with kitchen utensils in his hands, humming a tune Cas did not recognize. Dean winked when he caught Cas staring. Castiel hoped the blush on his cheeks let Dean know how much he enjoyed getting Dean's attention.

"I'm making an egg white omelet," Dean said while trying to separate yolks from egg whites. "Sam is going to shit his pants if he knows I'm making this meal." Chuckling at his own jokes, Dean moved to fetch some sausages from the fridge. "As a good big brother, I can't let that happen now, can I?" Dean winked at Cas again before turning to throw the big fat links into the pan.

Cas fidgeted in his seat. His mouth was watering inside, though he wasn't sure if it was because of the sizzling meat in the pan, or the hot, sexy chef he could call his own.

It felt almost like home, almost like when he watched his mom, or later, his sister, cook while he was ordered to just sit back and enjoy the show, and after that, the meal. Anna would be so glad to know that Dean was capable of taking as good care of him as she'd done.

"Somebody doesn't like mushrooms, I see."

Castiel snapped from his thoughts. In front of him, Dean was chopping the white champignons into dices with a lopsided grin. Cas tried to explain himself, but was cut short when Dean leaned in for a chaste kiss.

"No picky eaters allowed in this house, capiche?"

Already, Cas wanted Dean back on his lips. "Capiche," he murmured in reply, feeling the lingering warmth with the tip of his tongue.

Soon the food was done. In his plate were a portion of omelet — egg white (because he was saving the yolk for lunch, Dean said) with cheese, zucchini, tomatoes and mushrooms, a link of sausage and two nice, warm buns. Castiel was swept off his feet. He hauled Dean into a kiss, making sure he gave his all into it, modesty be damned.

"You're spoiling me," he panted over Dean's bruised lips. Dean gave as much as he was given. It was brutal, and by the time they were done, they found themselves tangled around each other at the other end of the island.

"No, you're spoiling  _me_ ," Dean came back. His smile widened when Cas frowned. "If I don't get a frenzied kiss every time I cook, I'll be devastated." Dean stuck out his bottom lip for good measure.

Cas threw his head back, barking a laugh. Dean always had a way to brighten his mood. When he opened his eyes again, Dean was grinning at him, pulling his cheeks into beautiful taut arcs. Cas kissed the hollow next to the corner of his mouth, rubbing their bristles into delicious friction. He dropped his voice an octave lower, ghosting his breath where he knew would get Dean shaken. "Then I'll have to make sure I kiss you every time, won't I?"

"God," Dean groaned. His vocal cords vibrated with equal lust and frustration. "I can never outsmart you."

"Never," Cas gloated. Lacing their fingers together, he walked them back to their seats. "Let's not waste this good food," he said. And if he had to use his fork with his left hand because he didn't want to let go of Dean's, he wasn't complaining.

~:~:~

"Can we go out?"

"Out where?" Dean asked over a mouthful, munching some potato chips while Castiel washed the dishes. It was a chore he insisted on doing, but only after a hard-won fight in which Dean insisted on washing cooking utensils himself.

"I don't know. Take a walk in the woods, maybe." Cas shrugged. He placed a plate on the rack to dry, leaving droplets of water in its trail. "We are in the middle of nowhere. I don't think we will run into any human being within a five-mile radius."

Dean looked out the window, checking the weather. It was a sunny day, on this high side of warm. Probably good for a swim, if they could find a lake or a creak. "Alright, I'll pack some sandwiches," he said, crumpling the chip bag and throwing it into the bin. When he looked up, Cas was leaning on the counter, arms crossed, frowning at him.

"What?" Dean gawked.

Cas heaved a sigh. "We don't even know what the woods are like," he said. "There might not be a space for picnic."

"So what?" Dean raised his shoulders. "I'll just carry them back and eat them here. Either way we've got to eat."

So that was how they ended up trekking in the woods, Dean carrying in one hand a basket full of sandwiches and drinks. Cas would have let Dean do all the work, but he wasn't too mean. So, now, tugging under his arm was a blanket, which he found hidden in one of the closets in the guestroom.

Castiel inhaled deeply, trying to get in his lungs as much fresh air as he could. The woods around here were different from those of his home: the trees less dense, the temperature slightly higher, the dirt and air dryer. It was quiet for the most part.

"You seem to know what you're doing. You go hiking a lot, Cas?"

Fortunately, there was a compass on the small table near the door. Castiel supposed the person who stocked up the safe house knew of its importance should there be a need to disappear into the woods. He didn't need it right now, though. He didn't plan to venture too far, and he knew in which direction to head back. Anyway, he was glad to have it with him as a fail-safe, along with the pocket knife Dean was carrying.

"Yes, when I was younger." Castiel squinted his eyes at the sun. Slowly, his nose started to catch some humidity in the air. "My parents have a cabin. Anna and I used to play there all the time."

"What? Your parents let you two kids go out alone in the woods?"

Castiel laughed. "Of course not. My dad always came with us. He let me lead the way, though. That's how I learned how to trek."

But he wasn't really paying any mind to his answers. He was catching more of that scent of the crisp, fresh air, drifting with it a salty smell of fish and moss. His heart began thumping in his chest at the prospect. If it was what he thought it was—

"Holy fucking shit—" Dean cried as soon as they stepped into a clearing. In front of them was a lake, sizeable, still; its water a mixture of green and blue, reflecting on its surface lines of higher trees. Dean dropped the basket to the ground, making a beeline to the natural beauty.

"Dean, wait!"

Dean halted his feet, looking over his shoulder for what Cas had to say.

"Lakes attract people and animals alike," Cas elaborated. "It might be wiser for us to… settle behind these tree lines. At least to observe what kind of activities is going on around here."

Looking longingly at the lake, Dean stomped back to where Cas was. "Whatever you say, boss," he grunted, displeased, but not irate.

As soon as they found a spot to lay their blanket, Dean slumped on it, taking a swig of water and wolfing a sandwich like there was no tomorrow.

"Dean, you just ate," sitting down next to him, Castiel commented with both a frown and a small smile. He wasn't sure if he should be amused or amazed by Dean's demeanor.

"I just  _walked_ , okay?" Dean argued. He washed the food down with another gulp of water, then stretched out on his back, patting his stomach in contentment. Castiel chuckled before deciding to join Dean, lying down next to him.

They had a good view of the lake from here. The shade from the trees and the occasional breeze from the lake was definitely a plus. Dean snuggled closer to Cas, undoubtedly ready to doze off. Above them, golden rays of sunlight filtered through fresh aspen leaves. Castiel reached his arm up. The scene was so surreal he felt he could touch the sky.

_The sky—_

Cas got up and walked to the shore. Displayed before him was a wide open space, so high and vast the horizon was beyond his arms' length in every direction. He could see some movement from the other side of the pool. Tourists, if he had to guess. But they were too far to make out the faces or even the shape.

"What happened to 'we should be discreet'?" Dean asked, his tone casual. He wrapped his arms around Castiel's waist, chest pressing tight to his back as Dean placed a kiss behind his temple.

"Look where we are, Dean," Cas sighed. He relaxed back into Dean's hold, suddenly wishing this moment never ended.

But it had to be.

They were no longer in confinement. No bars or barb wires or locked doors and armed guards ordering them where to go or what to do. Once they were out of this safe house, sky was the only limit. Dean would meet new people, beautiful women whom Dean could flaunt around, who could give Dean carnal pleasures he knew Dean enjoyed.

Suddenly he realized there was nothing holding Dean back. When Dean wished to leave, he would — no, Dean  _should_  leave.

"You should leave," he said with resolution, wiggling himself out of Dean's embrace.

"What?"

"Find someone who is good enough for you, who can give you all the things that you need."

"Cas? What is going on?"

"We are not in prison anymore, Dean!" Cas raised his voice, frustrated that Dean refused to understand, to see things as it needed to be seen. "You don't need to be stuck with me now. You are free to go."

Dean's expression softened then. He brushed his knuckles lightly over Cas' cheek, but to Cas, it burned like his skin was scraped with jagged stones.

"Can't you be that someone for me?" Dean crooned, his voice far too gentle for Castiel's shattered heart. "That person who will always be by my side?"

Cas furiously shook his head, pushing away the urge to back-pedal, to take his dismissal back. "I'm sick, Dean. I don't know if I will ever recover. You should find someone who can satisfy you sexually."

"And miss doing hundreds other things with you?" Dean argued. "Come on, Cas. Give me a chance. Give us a chance to work through this."

Dean knew where Cas was coming from. Insecurity was one of the effects of sexual assault. Add to that the fact that they were in a new environment, one that was extremely intimidating, even to normal people. But Cas was strong. And even if there was no limit to this whole wide world, there was no real threat as there'd been in prison. Cas didn't even need Dean's protection out here—

He didn't need Dean's protection out here.

"Unless you want to leave," Dean mumbled, so low he wasn't sure he wanted Cas to hear. Of course, there was no reason for Cas to stay. Cas was strong. He would soon recover — with or without Dean.

Cas took a step away from him. A foot apart that ripped Dean's core in half.

"Maybe that's for the better," Cas murmured, his face a flicker of anguish, incomprehension, and then despair. He turned to his left and started walking, never looked back, or slowed his pace.


	26. Never Say Never

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait. Some personal shit happened.

Dean cried his eyes out, behind the lines of trees, next to an enormous pond, where the nearest man was too far away to hear. Who would have thought gaining freedom would mean letting go of the only person he never wanted to lose? But Cas deserved better. He deserved someone decent, normal. Someone whose hands were not tainted with blood, carrying with him twisted, rotten emotional baggage.

The sun had sunk low by the time Dean pulled himself to his feet, tottering his way through murky woods. The inside of the house was completely dark when he reached it. Dean entered through the back door, not surprised to find it unlocked. There was no one in the kitchen. In fact, there was no one in the house.

Dean's heart dropped. Cas was really gone.

He thought Cas would stay until Ellen okayed them to leave. They could even sleep in separate rooms; Dean wouldn't mind that. At least he'd have these last days to take care of Cas, to imprint in his mind their final memories. But apparently Cas didn't need their help either; the same way Gabriel didn't need theirs — or Chuck. Sam would be so pissed to know another person had gone off their radar.

Dean locked the house and climbed upstairs. He would mope around in bed — the bed he didn't have a chance to teach Cas to appreciate — until Sam came to get him, whenever that was. It could be days, but he didn't care anymore. Dean switched on the lights, almost jumping out of his skin to find Cas sleeping in the middle of the mattress.

Cas stirred, rousing. Dean swiftly turned on his heels.

"Dean?"

Cas' voice was laden with sleep when he called for him. Dean could do nothing but clumsily turn back. He kept his gaze at the foot of the bed, fiddling with his fingers awkwardly.

"I'm sorry. I- I didn't know you were here. I- I'm going to- to use the guestroom," Dean stuttered, almost embarrassingly, then fled. He didn't stride far before Cas pounced on him in a bear hug from behind.

The contact knocked the wind out of Dean; the touch was too overwhelming. This tight an embrace faltered his resolution to let Cas go; the desire to have and to hold almost choked him. "Cas, please," he begged instead. "I can't do this."

"Do what?" Cas mumbled into the back of his head, refusing to loosen his grip.

"This," Dean sighed, exhausted. "If you want to go, you need to stop this right now. I can't continue this only to lose you later."

Cas spun Dean around with such force that Dean's hips hit the railings, his back bending backwards. He might have fallen downstairs if it wasn't for Cas who gripped him tight.

Face-to-face with Cas, Dean's heart thumped in his chest — like the first time they'd met, like the first time Dean fell in love with him.

Cas shouldn't have this effect on him. Cas should  _stop_  having this effect on him.

"Where can I go, Dean?" Cas whispered; his eyes softened into a blend of saddest and sweetest ache. "I only have you. Where can I go?"

Dean closed the distance, crushing their lips together. His heart burst in elation and relief. He didn't lose Cas after all. He'd let Cas go, and Cas chose to stay.

"Cas," Dean growled low in his throat. He cupped the nape of Cas' neck, tilting his head just so he could relish those sugary moans and needy flavors. It was feral; how their passion ignited like firebolt. Cas keened in response, indistinct yet intelligible, the fiery reciprocal. Dean never wanted this to stop — not now, not ever.

"Cas," Dean heaved through panted breaths — a mantra he wanted to keep chanting in reverence for all eternity. "Can we not do this again?"

"Can we not do what again?" Cas asked between smooth pecks of the lips, a cunning sort of plea to get Dean back to where they were.

"This," Dean grunted with reluctant effort. His palms pushed lightly at Cas' waist to keep him still long enough to focus. Cas seemed to catch on. He pulled back to look at Dean with a questioning frown. "This whole leaving you leaving me thing," Dean elaborated. "If you want to leave, do it now. If you stay, stay, and we'll never part again."

"Okay" Cas barely finished his word when he angled forward. Dean pushed him off.

"Okay what?" Dean asked, demanding an answer.

Smiling, Cas leaned in again. Dean lost the determination to stand his ground, allowing Cas to just breathe him in. He looked up to the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh while Cas' nose ghosted under his jaw — not close enough, yet leaving searing prints in its wake.

"I'll stay."

Dean rolled them over, the surprise element bending Cas backwards. Cas laughed when he almost toppled. Pulling them steady on four feet, away from the railing, Dean held Cas tight as if Cas could disappear into thin air otherwise.

He couldn't believe he had this. Cas' beautiful laughter still resonated in his ears, and the man himself was very, very real in his arms. He could still catch the faint traces of the forest on Cas' clothes — the dusty smell of soil and trees and the burning tang of the sun. It was dreamy and lucid all at the same time.

Dean wasn't going to ask if Cas was sure of it. Of them. It might reoccur when vulnerability came to haunt him. It might not. But one thing Dean was certain. When Cas needed his space, Dean would give it to him. And he would be there, when Cas returned.

"I'm hungry," Cas said simply, pulling Dean back to the here and now.

"Right" Dean nodded. Cas might not have eaten anything since breakfast. Dean didn't have anything after that sandwich either; he'd kind of thrown the rest away to vent his frustration. "Let get you something to eat."

~:~:~

Two afternoons later found Dean and Cas snuggled on the couch, watching a Marvel marathon, after Cas had made a foolish mistake of letting slip he had no idea who Steve Rogers was. After four movies, Cas wasn't sure if he should be grateful or not that Sam was such a thoughtful brother, and stacked the house full with movies he knew Dean loved.

Out of the blue, Dean jumped to his feet. He sprinted past the front door before Cas could even make out a low rumble of a car engine sound. They had a visitor, it seemed.

He followed Dean out to the front porch. Parked there was a black, sleek, classic car. A pretty, petite blonde stepped out of it, but Dean paid the girl no attention. He was hovering his hands over the smooth, shiny surface, undoubtedly hot from hours of driving. His pose was no different from an act of worship.

"God," the young lady groaned. "Can you be more gross, Dean?"

Dean just grinned at her — the broad smile that showed his perfect white teeth and boyish charm — before sliding in the passenger seat. Cas would have said Dean kissed the dashboard, if he did not believe his eyes were deceiving him.

"You must be Castiel." The woman appeared in front of him while he was enchanted with Dean's amusing behavior. She offered her hand. "I'm Jo."

"Oh," Castiel let out a surprised gasp. Up close, he could see Jo was a natural beauty. Still, there was something in her posture that said she was no-nonsense, smart, and could kick anyone's ass. Taking her hand, he greeted politely, "Nice to meet you. Is Sam not with you?"

"He'll come in another car." Looking back at Dean, now in the driver's seat cranking up the radio, she continued, "Thought I might do him a favor and bring in his Baby."

Cas hummed, nodding. So this was the car Dean always gushed about then. "Looks like I'm losing in this competition."

Jo burst out laughing, patting his shoulder in sympathy.

"Cas!" Dean stuck his head out the window, hollering for him. "Come here!"

He turned to their guest. "Why don't you go inside, make yourself at home?" It felt weird as soon as it left the tip of his tongue. Technically, this house might be more Jo's than his.

Jo seemed amazed, though, and Cas could tell it wasn't because of something he'd said. Her eyebrows knotted into a frown before a lopsided smile crept up her face. "Yeah, you go ahead," she nudged, amused. Maybe it was the way half of Dean's body was hanging off the window expectantly. "I'm keeping the keys, by the way. He's not supposed to go anywhere."

Castiel walked to Dean after Jo disappeared into the house. Dean beckoned him over to the passenger side, but stopped him before Cas could appease. Dean came out to get the door. Cas felt all jittery at being treated so gentlemanly.

Sliding back into the driver's seat, Dean beamed. His eyes were blazing with ecstasy. Cas couldn't help but be happy with him. "Isn't she gorgeous?" Dean preened, swelling with pride.

"I can see why you love her," Cas agreed, running his hand over the leather seat. He could see it had been well taken care of, even during Dean's incarceration.

Dean covered his hand, then laced their fingers. And if Cas scooted a little closer, it was because Dean was tugging him. "Wait till I take you driving," Dean said, pulling up his hand to kiss over the knuckles. "There are  _so_  many places I want to show you."

Cas watched with fascination the rosy lips that skimmed the back of his hand, soft and sensual. He darted his tongue out to lick at his own, suddenly feeling his mouth dry with thirst.

Dean slid closer until their knees touched, his free hand moving up to cup the side of Castiel's face. Those lips Cas had been staring at suddenly were so close he almost lost focus. If he would just close his eyes—

"We should make out in here, like a pair of horny teenagers," Dean suggested. What should be a corky comment came out loaded with a craving to feel, to touch.

"We have guests," was all Cas could manage without succumbing to the urge to indulge Dean, giving him whatever, whichever way Dean needed.

The groan Dean made when he pulled away was frustrated enough to make Cas feel sorry for him. "We are doing this later," Dean said, pointing a finger at him with determination that brought a smile to Cas' face. Cas leaned forward to kiss the corner of Dean's lips — a promise of things to come once they were alone.

The rumbled sound of a second car got them out of the Impala. Sure enough, Sam stepped out of the black SUV, but he didn't come alone.

The tinted glass must be playing tricks with his eyes, an illusion of light, Cas thought to himself as he stared at the familiar redhead Sam was helping out of the car. Even when she was standing in front of him, the sun reflecting off her white dress, almost blinding, he still couldn't believe it was real.

"Anna?" Cas croaked. A burst of vivid recollections raced around in his mind, so fast it blurred into a haze. "But you were—"

 _Dead_  was the word Castiel could never get past his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your reviews.


	27. Better Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you have it, the final chapter.

"What the fuck was that?" Dean snarled.

After Cas reunited with his sister and an elderly couple Dean didn't care enough to learn who they were, he dragged his brother to the other side, baring his teeth like he was about to bite Sam's head off.

"That's Cas' sister," Sam began cautiously, very conscious of the rage bubbling under Dean's skin. "She is Cas' only living family; so she has to come down here to—"

"No, dude," Dean brushed the bullshit off, scaling up his glowering stance. "What  _the fuck_  was that?"

Sam swallowed the choking lump in his throat. He knew he couldn't evade the inevitable. "I'm sorry," he mumbled in his throat, even though he had convinced himself Dean would forgive him. After all, he did it solely for Dean. "I knew Cas wasn't going anywhere because he was protecting his sister, and I knew you wouldn't leave if he—"

Dean's right hook connected with his chin. The impact sent Sam staggering backwards; the jolt of pain a long-lost but not missed feeling to the younger Winchester.

"I taught you better than this!" Dean spat. His clenched fist shook. "You fucking  _lied_  to Cas that his sister was dead so he would what, agree to leave with me?"

Sam closed his eyes, bracing himself for another blow, but it never came.

"Come on, Dean."

At Cas' soft spoken voice, Sam peeked his eyes open. Cas was standing between him and his brother, gently nudging Dean away from the scene. "There's someone I'd like you to meet," Cas said with a bright smile, seemingly oblivious of the physical confrontation between the two brothers.

Dean blinked, pulling himself out of the boiling stupor he didn't realize he had fallen into. Cas tugged at his hand, and Dean went with as if in a daze. Once they reached where Cas' family were, Cas crouched down in front of a young lady who was sitting in a wheelchair. Dean followed suit.

"Dean, this is my sister, Anna," Cas began, placing a hand lightly on his sister's knee. He was looking — no, worshipping — the deity in front of him. The gleam in his eyes not like any Dean had seen before. "Anna, this is Dean."

Dean darted his gaze to the woman before him: big charming eyes, wide smile on plump lips, furious red hair that glowed in the sun, and slender neck that would have Dean itching to lick at if he were still living his former life. She was wearing a white lacy dress that seemed to accentuate her fair skin.

"You are the Righteous Man," she said, smiling at him. Dean gaped stupidly — at her, at Cas and then back at his sister. How could she say he was the Righteous Man, when Dean's very first thoughts of her were barely shy of impure?

"The angels have been talking about you," she continued on. This time Dean looked to Cas, a questioning frown on his forehead. 'Angels?' Dean mouthed the word silently to him. Cas gave a small smile and shook his head fondly in response. "Castiel was sent to rescue you from Hell." She then looked to her brother, smiling proudly. "Some said you would fail, but I told them you would succeed."

Dean stopped himself before he could make a foolish remark. Cas wasn't kidding when he said his sister was nuts.

Then she joined their hands — Cas' and Dean's — a gesture that made Dean flinch and Cas tilt his head, narrowing his eyes. They looked at their linked hands and then back at her. Dean's insides performed several backflips at the moment. He and Anna had just met, and he guessed Cas didn't even have a chance yet to tell her they were together. One look at Cas told him Cas had no idea what was going on either, and that did not quell Dean's nervousness in the slightest.

"You two share a very profound bond — the angel and his human charge," Anna pronounced ritually. "What God has bound no one shall break."

Dean choked on his breath, spluttering. Cas' cheeks went bright red like ripe tomatoes, but he had on his face a wide smile as though his sister just gave them her blessing.

Maybe she did.

~:~:~

"So, angels?"

Dean asked while putting the remainder of the apple pie he had baked into the fridge. Their dinner table was not big enough to host seven people: himself and Cas, Sam and Jo, Anna and the couple Dean learned were Missouri and Rufus, who had been taking care of Anna since she fell ill. Dean'd made something simple that their guests could just scoop into their plates and mingle around the house. It also saved Cas the trouble of having to wash up too many dishes.

Cas would love his family to stay, but there were many legal procedures that they needed to attend to, his funeral included. Sam promised to bring them back in a few days. Anna took the whole fake-death scheme in well, Dean thought, considering the mental state she was in.

Putting the glass he was rinsing down, Cas turned to Dean with a timid blush. "That would have been partly my fault," he said. "I used to call her angel often when she was young. We even have our own angel song."

Dean moved closer, fascinated by the story Cas told. "Is that why you don't want me to call you angel?"

Cas nodded, turning to finish rinsing the last pieces of dinnerware. "It reminded me of the good old days which were too painful to remember at the time."

"So," Dean sneaked his arms around Cas' waist, stealing a kiss on the naked skin just under the hem of his dark hair, at the nape of his neck. "Does it mean I get to call you angel now? She did say you are my angel, didn't she?"

"Dean," Cas chided, but it came out more as a sigh as he cocked his head to one side, allowing his lover more touches. "You can't take what she said seriously."

Dean was busy tasting that sweet-scented flesh he almost forgot to form a reply. "But she was kind of right," he said, pulling himself closer to Cas. "I would still be in that hellhole if it weren't for you."

At that, Cas spun around. Dean almost whined at the loss of contact. "You have Sam to be thankful for. He did everything he could to get you out."

Huffing, Dean crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe Sam's idea of  _everything_  should have some limits. "He owes you an apology, Cas. He shouldn't have done that to you."

Shaking his head, Cas uncoiled Dean's arms and stepped between them. Dean easily took him in, pulling their hips together. "I'm not mad," Cas said, resting his forehead over Dean's. "I'm just happy I have her back. She is here. You are here. My life is perfect."

Dean's speech left him. He could hear nothing but the drum-drum-drum of his heartbeat. Cas said his life was perfect — not because he had money, or a successful career, or a beautiful house and a beautiful wife. Cas' life was perfect because he had his family and Dean.

"Cas," Dean breathed shakily, the intensity of Cas' words suffocating his lungs. "Will you marry me, please?" Dean blurted before he could chicken out and change his mind. He wanted this. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Cas.

Cas pulled back with a frown. Already Dean wished he hadn't said that and spoiled the magical moment. "I thought we discussed that," he commented.

"Well," Dean put a sheepish look on his face. He didn't think Cas would still remember. "You didn't exactly say yes last time."

Cas chuckled, a low rumble in his throat that made Dean's stomach flutter uneasily. Maybe Dean'd gotten it all wrong and made a fool of himself. Cas leaned in for a kiss, but it wasn't until Cas had Dean's bottom lip between his teeth that Dean began to let up. He let Cas nuzzle under his jaw, shivering when Cas' hand slipped under his shirt. Cas' nimble fingers digging sensual trails down his abdomen.

"You can ask as many times as you want," Cas mewled. "The answer is always the same."

Dean lost the willpower to form a coherent sentence when Cas' lips crept up to his ear. Holding his breath, Dean waited for the reply that came two seconds too late.

"And?" he croaked.

"Yes," Cas purred. "It's always a yes."

~:~:~

Dean didn't get a chance to continue their evening frolic in bed due to Cas practically shoving him into the bathroom, saying Dean stank. If he was honest to himself, he kind of did, what with an afternoon in the sun and sweating himself in front of the stove before dinner. The air wasn't exactly cooling either with seven full-grown adults cramming in the small safe house.

Sitting with his back to the headboard, Dean absentmindedly flicked through a book he didn't care to read, waiting for Cas to finish his turn of shower. His mind flitted back over and over to his marriage proposal, once again blurting out in circumstances Dean never dreamed to be in. Well, Cas did say he could ask as many times as he wanted. Maybe Dean could ask Sam to bring their father's wedding ring. He intended to give Mom's to Sam to give to Jo when they decided to get hitched. Dad's ring would fit Cas' finger perfectly—

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Cas' voice snapped Dean out of his trance. The blue-eyed man was dressed in a soft cotton t-shirt and light-colored sweatpants, a small towel slung over his shoulder. His hair was dripping and sticking in all adorable directions.

"I was wondering what took you so long." Dean evaded the subject. "I'm getting lonely out here."

Chuckling, Cas climbed onto Dean's lap, shaking his head so droplets of water landed everywhere. Dean squeezed his eyes shut against the drizzle, grimacing when he opened his eyes and saw damp spots on his T-shirt. Grabbing the towel, Dean threw it over Cas' head and stopped the motion with both of his hands. Cas beamed that playful smile of his between the rims of white cotton sheet, rolling his head so Dean could rub his hair dry.

Now it was Dean's turn to chuckle.

"You need a hair dryer, Princess?"

Cas shook his head against Dean's movement, grunting a negative to get his point across. It earned him another chuckle from Dean, as well as a vigorous kneading. Cas hummed in contentment, wondering who would need a hair dryer when Dean's fingers were massaging his scalp so nicely.

Deeming it dry enough, Dean threw the towel away. Cas' head was a shocking mess. Not exactly the sexy type, yet Dean couldn't resist running his fingers through it, camouflaging it as an attempt to comb Cas' hair. His breath caught at the satiny feel his fingers felt upon caressing the locks.

Cas actively helped Dean in taming it down with both hands, huffing when it didn't get anywhere near his desired effect. Dean caught him before Cas could straighten up and out of his lap.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dean asked, securing Cas in place. He couldn't bear to lose contact, not right now.

Cas deadpanned, "I need a comb."

"Oh, no, you don't," Dean countered quickly. Cas scowled at him, apparently not pleased with the answer. Dean smirked before throwing Cas on his back across the bed. Cas yelped then giggled when Dean perched atop him, face mere inches away. "Because I am going to rumple it up again," Dean cooed, fingers tenderly carding the silken strands to illustrate his point.

"Are you now?" Cas looked up at him with a suggestive smile. His eyes flashed with desire and something else that had Dean swallow the lump in his throat. The moment Cas' gaze fell to his lips, Dean dove down to catch him in a sweet kiss, moaning when he felt hands in his hair, stroking, pulling. The back of his head would be spiky now, that Dean was certain.

Cas puffed out Dean's name when they broke apart, pupils blown wide. Breezes of amorous affection filled the air, calming Dean's mind and at the same time prickling his skin. He wanted to relish, to touch, to worship, but if Cas didn't give him a go, making out was the only thing he could do.

And yet Cas had a different idea.

He shoved Dean back up, getting Dean to sit against the headboard where he had been before. Cas sat on Dean's lap, lowering himself until he could rest his head on Dean's shoulder and wrap his arms around his waist. "I like it this way," he murmured.

And yeah, yeah, he could live with this, Dean thought as he cradled Cas in his arms. He couldn't deny he loved the way their bodies fit, or the compression in his chest when Cas snuggled against him, relaxed and untroubled.

Cas' voice was muffled in Dean's T-shirt. "Do you think Sam will let us keep the house?"

"What?" Dean chuckled. He wasn't sure if he heard it right. Not long ago one old dork was still grumbling he hated this place. "You like it?"

"Yeah" Cas lightly nodded. It wasn't equally big, but it reminded him of his cabin house, the one brimming with happy childhood memories. It was also the first house he spent with Dean after incarceration.

"Well," Dean drew out, shifting a little so he could plant his feet on the mattress, and if the new position allowed their clothed cocks to lie abreast, he wasn't complaining.

And he certainly didn't miss Cas' quiet gasp.

"I don't think we can keep the house." It was a Fed's, after all. "But we can find one similar to this one, maybe not more than a four-hour drive from Anna's. How does that sound?"

"You'd really do that?" Cas straightened up, eyes wide in shock. Dean got a jolt of his own when the act set off a delicious friction in his groin. His hips not so discreetly undulated on their own. Luckily, Cas' mind was too engrossed with something else to notice.

"Yeah, why not?" Staggering, Dean found himself blushing furiously, not because of the motion in his nether region that he had successfully willed to a halt, but because of the appreciation in Cas' eyes that was so sincere they blazed like a clear morning sky. It made Dean acutely self-conscious. "I've been to prison. Everywhere else is better than that," he quipped.

Cas made a long face, but a flicker of smugness gave it away. "And here I thought the answer would be you are happy to be wherever I am," he mewled, looking up shyly through his lashes.

Dean groaned internally. That smartass used the voice  _and_  the look he knew would leave Dean's body tingling with excitement. In retaliation, Dean rolled his hips, slowly, artfully kneading their balls together. Cas dropped his head. His lips parted, blowing shaky breaths while pressing one of his palms on Dean's chest to balance himself. "That too," Dean purred. Then he stopped.

He could pinpoint the exact moment Cas' eyes turned from being clouded with lust to glaring daggers at him. Dean burst out laughing, which had Cas pout, for real this time.

Dean nipped that sticking-out bottom lip between his teeth, then soothed it with a swipe of his tongue. Cas growled, an actual fucking  _growl_ , grabbing the back of Dean's neck and locking him in for a forceful kiss that had Dean's sensory system go into overdrive. Suddenly Dean became aware of his throbbing hard-on, begotten by none other than his guardian angel eagerly grinding onto his lap.

"Cas," Dean groaned, grabbing Cas' butt cheeks in order to still his movement. At this rate, he might not be able to stop himself when Cas said no, and he definitely did not want to make either of them uncomfortable.

But Cas seemed to take Dean's gesture the wrong way, pushing back into Dean's hands, clearly enjoying the squeeze of the fleshly mounds.

"Dean," Cas moaned. He had leaned back, planting his palms on the mattress. The angle allowed him to slide Dean's erection along the crack of his ass, which in turn got Dean to knead his globes with more vigor it was sure to leave reddened marks. Cas' cock stood upright against the fabric of his pants, the tip of it visible above the waistline that was tugged down by the motion. "Dean, get me naked, please," he pleaded.

"A— Are you sure?" Dean managed to croak out before all of his self-control decided to jump off the cliff and disappear. In all honesty, he had been eyeing the naked skin above Cas' neckline and wished there was a spell that could tear the fabric in half.

Cas glowered at him. "Don't ask stupid questions, Dean."

If anything, Cas was undeniably hot when he barked out commands. Dean had to lick his lips to cool himself down.

Cas smirked knowingly. That bastard, Dean swore, was going to be the death of him. As if that wasn't enough, Cas leaned in close. Whenever Cas' lips were next to his ear, it meant Dean was in deep shit.

"And I want you to remain fully clothed for me. Can you do that?"

Dean almost creamed his pants.

Cas dropped his voice low, two octaves, Dean was sure of it. It was so fucking low it must have hurt his throat. The rumble got Dean's stomach in a knot. If Cas was fucking him with that voice, he would be a begging mess and would come twice before Cas was done with him.

"Anything," was all Dean could cough out. He would do anything Cas asked of him, no doubt about it, but they needed to slow it down. After all, it would be their first time going beyond first base. Excuse him if he wanted to make it better than those horny teenagers next door.

"I'm not doing all the work," Dean began his scheme. Cas cast him a questioning look. "If you want to get naked, you need to strip for me."

Cas, for his part, was eager to follow through the idea. He quickly grabbed the hem of his shirt, only to have Dean stopped it.

"Striptease"

As the words sank in, Cas gaped. He opened his mouth, then closed it. His voice came out on the third attempt. "I— I don't dance," he stammered.

"It's not that difficult," Dean insisted. "Basically you just have to waggle your body while removing your clothes."

Cas gazed downwards, fidgeting with Dean's shirt. "It won't be sexy," he reasoned. He didn't exactly possess musicality or artistry needed of a dancer.

Tipping Cas' head up, Dean wouldn't have any of that. "Have you ever seen yourself, Castiel? Everything you do is sexy."

Cas went crimson, casting his eyes down again in denial. A thrill coursed through him when Dean stated his full name. Adding that to what Dean, the sex god, said about him, it made Cas feverish.

"Alright, what are we?"

Cas snapped his head up, gawking.

"What are we? Answer me," Dean repeated.

Cas frowned. They never really discussed their relationship. Dean seemed okay to let it flow the way it was. So did he, which might be why they had had different ideas regarding the marriage proposal. Anna did say they shared a profound bond, though. Did that make them soul mates? But Anna wasn't really in her right mind. Cas settled with the next best thing.

"H— Husbands," he answered carefully.

Dean flashed a toothy, pleased grin. "You're damn right we are," he exclaimed with a firm nod. "It means I get to see every side of you: naked you, dressed up you, ugly, sexy, dorky, dirty, kinky you. All of it. Got it?"

Cas nodded deliberately. Maybe Dean was right. He would want to see all sides of Dean, too. And if stripping was Dean's kink, well, he'd want to be the one gratifying it.

"Alright." Dean nudged Cas up so they could get out of bed. "I'll show you the moves."

It started off with Cas being told to perch on the edge of the bed then Dean showed him the basics. While there was nothing sexy about their casual nighttime clothes, the way Dean swayed his backside, at the same time inch by inch lowering his pants only to drag them back up and perk his ass, or the way Dean brought his bulge to the fore, licking his lips, leering him with a look lecherous enough to burn him alive, created an embarrassingly large wet spot in the front of Castiel's sweatpants.

He tried to imitate Dean, he really did. But something as simple as putting one foot in front of the other had Dean throw his head back in a hearty laugh. He loved Dean's chortle, though, so he didn't think of it as a setback.

Then Dean told him to hold his footing. With his back to Dean, who was now perching on the bed, Castiel grabbed the hem of his shirt, rolling his hips while slowly pulling it up and drawing it back down. He could feel his back muscles tauten with the effort and hear Dean gasp in response. Looking over his shoulder, he smirked to see Dean palm his crotch.

Throwing his shirt away, Castiel moved closer to Dean, within his reach. Eyes fixing on the v of Cas' pelvis, Dean's tongue darted out to wet his lips, as if wanting to leave wet trails along the sharp bones or suck into the small hollow. Cas stood still, watching his green orbs as Dean's mind fought between  _god yes please let me_  and  _no you can't go there_. The moment the former thought won the debate, Cas jerked his hips back, leaving Dean hanging in the air with a frustrated groan.

He raked his thumbs along his hipbones, then hooked them in the waistband, bit by bit uncovering his groin in a measured pace. His pants were stiff with pre-cum, and he made sure Dean saw it, both the stain and the dickhead that was still crowned with a pearly drop at its tip. The helpless whimper that escaped Dean's throat earned Castiel a triumphant smirk. He swiftly turned on his heels, stepped back near enough to be between Dean's parted knees. After that, he bent his body in half, dragging his pants to the floor with his hands.

"God, Cas," Dean groaned. He ran his hands over the muscled thighs, up to the smooth round of the ass that was right in front of him. It flexed under his palms as Cas straightened back up and stepped out of his attire.

"How did I do?" Cas beamed as he put his arms around Dean's neck, straddling his lap, completely naked.

If Dean's dick could speak, it would say it was a bad, bad idea to ask Cas to strip for him, if an aching erection was what he got after the first,  _unpracticed,_  performance.

"You were amazing, babe," Dean flattered. Cas was elated with the compliment, dipping forward to give Dean a kiss even though he was still smiling.

Dean rolled them onto bed, nudging Cas with his knees to skid further up. Once they were in the middle of it, Cas pulled Dean in to continue kissing, his arms draping around Dean's neck. He moaned when Dean moved to nuzzle one side of his face while caressing the other. It made Cas writhed, feeling empty with the gap between them. He needed contact. He needed it now. "Dean, please," Cas begged, frustrated. He tried to pull Dean's hips down, but Dean wouldn't budge.

"I got you, angel," Dean crooned, sensing Cas shuddered at the nickname. He gradually stretched himself, lowering his body on top of Cas, not fully, but enough to let Cas feel Dean's weight on him.

Cas breathed a sigh of relief. He'd missed this, missed  _them_  — the way they had been before Lucifer: happy, needy, sated. The way Cas bared himself naked for Dean, trusting, demanding. When he'd thought sex with Dean was what averted his nightmares, so he just took and took and took. He didn't have to worry if anything he did would displease Dean, or if his defects would shun Dean away.

Before he knew it, Dean had moved dangerously low on his body. Dean licked along his pelvic bone, one hand toying with his balls. He had missed this, too, the sweet, velvety glove of Dean's mouth, how his throat would clench around—

"Dean, don't!" Cas reproved, catching him in time before Dean could slip Cas' cock past his lips. Dean groaned. While the memories might be dear, reality was rather unkind.

"Six months." Dean climbed up to give Cas a brief kiss. "Six months, and I'm ruining you for everyone."

Cas reached up to kiss Dean, quick, before flopping back down with a shy smile. "You kind of already did."

And damn if that didn't make Dean happy. He went down to kiss Cas again, taking his time. Setting back the way Cas liked, Dean curled his fingers around Cas' cock, gently stroking him, enjoying the whimpers Cas let out into their kisses.

Dean's dick hung heavy above Cas' thigh. He tried not to move it so as not to create unnecessary friction. This was about Cas after all. He was still fully clothed, which meant his orgasm wasn't a priority. But the way Cas squirmed as he tried to fuck into Dean's fist was precariously testing his limits. Cas was beautiful like this, when he wantonly thrashed and moaned and begged, a litany of  _Dean_  and  _please_ music to his ears, almost addictive, like a drug that left him fuzzy and high.

All of a sudden, Dean was shoved on his back, his pants yanked just above his thigh. He didn't get to process when just as swiftly Cas was on him, lining and pumping their cocks together. Both of them threw their heads back and moaned in unison; the contact too luscious to hold it in. Dean covered the parts that Cas' fingers, in all their graceful delicacy, couldn't reach. Two hands moved as one.

It was not long before Cas' hips started to sputter. His balls drew tight. His skin tinged shades of red. His face scrunched up the way that told Dean he was going to come, except that he wasn't. He was holding back.

"Let it go, Cas," Dean told him, increasing the pace of his hand. "I'm right behind you. Let me see you come."

Cas let out a guttural cry as his cock shot milk-white liquid over his hand and across his belly. That voice alone got Dean's pleasure coiling tight in his gut, but it was the way sweat dripped from the tips of Cas' hair while Cas hung his mouth open, panting for breath, his cock throbbing and spurting against Dean's that set him off. Dean came, howling for all it was worth.

Definitely an isolated house would be best for them.

Cas collapsed next to Dean, his hand and body a sticky mess but he was too exhausted to move. Dean grabbed Cas' pants, already spoiled as they were, to clean them up. Leave it to Dean to take care of them. Dean propped on an elbow, chuckling at a sprawling nude Cas and at himself, who had also been only half-decent before he pulled his pants up.

"What happened to having me fully clothed, huh?"

Cas wheezed a dry laugh. "Well, I changed my mind," he replied with a cocky grin, pillowing his head on one arm, blissfully satiated.

That was a good sign. Truth be told, Dean was beginning to worry that, for the past several days, Cas had allowed them nothing but kisses. Granted, Dean could kiss him as long as he wanted, but as soon as his hands wandered to a wrong place, Cas would stop. Subtle, but nonetheless Dean knew that was the end of the line.

Now Cas did not only trust Dean enough to let Dean touch him, he was also comfortable with himself enough to take what he wanted. Little steps, without fear of relapse.

Cas curled over on his side, burying his head next to Dean's shoulder. One hand clutched at Dean's shirt, he closed his eyes. Dean couldn't resist bending down to kiss that mop of sex hair. "Should I get you some clothes?" he asked.

"It depends," Cas replied. Even without looking, Dean could hear the sleepy smile in his voice. "Whether or not you want me naked."

"Smartass," Dean grunted. He rolled back so he could get out of bed and get Cas some fresh clothing. As much as he wanted to wake up to a nude Cas, it might be wiser to move one step at a time. Once whatever this was died down, in the morning, Cas might not be so thrilled to find himself exposed.

Which only proved him right when Cas complied without so much as a grumble. Once that was done, they settled back down, Cas in Dean's arm, sprawling half over him, limbs clasping like a clingy octopus he was. Dean wondered how he was going to untangle himself if he needed to take a leak. One contented purr from Cas had him throw his concern out of his mind.

"We should find a house somewhere not far from a law school, too," Cas slurred out of the blue.

Dean's breath caught in his throat. Everything went by in a blur for him — the riot, the escape, even their lives in this safe house had been dreamlike. With Cas' words everything turned startlingly real, tangible, substantial. Them, Anna, Sam, the Future.

"Well, that narrows it down," Dean murmured to himself. Between Stanford and Chino, Dean was sure they would be able to find a small, affordable house. One bedroom for them and one bedroom for guests in case Sam and Jo wanted to spend the weekend. It didn't have to be a beach house — Cas preferred hiking in the woods anyway — but he could drive them there if Cas ever wanted to get his toes in the sand (whereas Dean would be busy scowling at everyone who ogled his husband, he was sure). Or they could alternate the weekends between Anna's and Sam's.

Cas would go back to teaching, as Cas had once animatedly told him,  _'You have to meet my kids, Dean. They are adorable!'_  Yeah, primary. Dean could see nothing but naughty little rascals. He could see himself visiting Cas at the school, though, munchkins running around while Cas beamed upon seeing him. He wondered if Cas wears glasses when he teaches, or a sweater vest. Maybe he didn't, but Dean liked the imagery. He wondered if Cas would let them screw in his class after school, a colorful room with miniature desks and chairs. He wondered if Cas' students would call him 'Mr. Winchester'.

Dean's heart fluttered.

He had yet to decide what career he would take. He would not fall back to his former lifestyle, so it was a total new start. Dean'd claimed to possess no skills, but Cas'd argued heatedly. The man had more faith in Dean's self-worth than he ever had in his entire life. Cas said Dean could work at a shooting range, or he could teach a self-defense class, or be an underwear model, which had Dean snort out his beer. But with nearby affluent neighborhoods, Dean might be able to work with cars — better still, exclusively with muscle, classic, or vintage. He wasn't picky, as long as he could provide for his family.

Family. That was what Dean had now — his own family.

"Cas" Dean lightly jerked, but Cas didn't stir. He called him again until Cas responded in a hum. "By any chance does your family hail from New York?"

Cas slurred a negative.

"New Jersey? Boston?"

Cas lifted his head up with a frown. "We have always been in California. Why?"

"Somewhere on the East Coast?"

"No," Cas grunted, settling back down. He was ready to continue his sleep. "But if you wanted East," he mumbled. "My grandparents were from Russia."

That was when it hit Dean, a notion so ludicrous he would guffaw like a mad man if Cas wasn't sleeping on him. It didn't matter who was from whose east. The prophecy never mattered. In whatever circumstances, he would always choose Cas. In any alternate universes they were in, Cas would be the only one who could worm his way into Dean's heart. In any hostilities they faced, Dean would always fight for him, defend him, kill for him until the last standing foe was down, and take Cas home with him.

"I love you, angel." Dean kissed the top of Cas' head. Breathing, because it meant Dean was alive. Inhaling, because the mixed scents of fruity shampoo and sweat meant Cas lived.

Cas pressed his lips onto Dean's nearest flesh, over the fabric of his shirt. He murmured sleepily, "I love you, too, human."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue, with a bit more closure, but the story pretty much completes here.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta readers and everyone who has read and left a comment or two or more along the way. It was one hell of a ride and I couldn't have done it without y'all!


	28. Playlist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter of this story is named after a song. These are them and the lyrics associated with it. Please note that this is kind of spoilery for the fic if you haven't read it.

[Playlist on YT  
](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL36b3oKLXYiVppBCu62B9fJw_TDor-gPt)(Some of the videos do not play on mobile devices)

 

1.

**Welcome to My World**

Depeche Mode

 _And if you stay a while  
_ _I'll penetrate your soul  
_ _I'll bleed into your dreams  
_ _You'll want to lose control_

 _I'll weep into your eyes  
_ _I'll make your visions sing  
_ _I'll open endless skies  
_ _And ride your broken wings_

_Welcome to my world_

 

~:~:~

 

2.

**Came Back Haunted**

Nine Inch Nails

 _Everywhere now reminding me  
_ _I am not who I used to be  
_ _I'm afraid this has just begun  
_ _Consequences for what I've done_

 _Just can't  
_ _Stop  
_ _I came back  
_ _I came back haunted_

 

~:~:~

 

3.

**Half Way to Crazy**

The Jesus and Mary Chain

 _Crazy  
_ _I'm halfway to crazy  
_ _Suicide would waste me  
_ _Homicide would break me  
_ _Tongue tied and tied to the tongue  
_ _Oh is life as bad as dreams  
_ _I guess that's just the way it seems_

 

~:~:~

 

4.

**Howl**

Florence and the Machine

 _If you could only see the beast you've made of me  
_ _I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free  
_ _The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound  
_ _I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallow'd ground_

 

~:~:~

 

5.

**The Boy is Mine**

Brandy and Monica

 _I'm sorry that you  
_ _Seem to be confused  
_ _He belongs to me  
_ _The boy is mine_

 

~:~:~

 

6.

**Falling Slowly**

Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová

 _I don't know you  
_ _But I want you  
_ _All the more for that  
_ _Words fall through me  
_ _And always fool me  
_ _And I can't react  
_ _And games that never amount  
_ _To more than they're meant  
_ _Will play themselves out_

 

~:~:~

 

7.

**Prisoner of Love**

Utada Hikaru

 _退屈な毎日が急に輝きだした  
_ _あなたが現れたあの日から  
_ _孤独でも辛くても平気だと思えた  
_ _I'm just a prisoner of love  
_ _Just a prisoner of love_

 

~:~:~

 

8.

**Are You Ready to be Heartbroken?**

Lloyd Cole and the Commotions

 _Are you ready to be heartbroken?  
_ _Are you ready to be heartbroken?  
_ _Are you ready to bleed?_

 _Well, you better get ready now, baby  
_ _Ready to bleed_

 

~:~:~

 

9.

**Mistakes**

Tindersticks

 _Mistakes I've made  
_ _I know I'll live with them all my life  
_ _Mistakes I've made  
_ _Like the one  
_ _You know the one_

_  
_

~:~:~

 

10.

**Tiny Words**

The Orchids

 _If you don't come with me I'll tell on you  
_ _I'll make your bed  
_ _I'll clean and shine your shoes_

 _Oh, I wish I was in heaven by your side  
_ _I wish I was in heaven by your side  
_ _'Cause you're my angel  
_ _And I'm your pride_

 

~:~:~

 

11.

**Ísjaki**

Sigur Rós

 _Þú segir aldrei neitt, þú ert ísjaki  
_ _Þú ert ísilagður  
_ _Þú þegir þunnu hljóði og felur þig bakvið  
_ _Ísjaki_

 

~:~:~

 

12.

**Search and Destroy**

Thirty Seconds to Mars

 _Sold my soul, from heaven into hell  
_ _Sick as my secrets, but never gonna tell  
_ _Lock the blame, burden of my dreams  
_ _Cause of faith in a blessing I believe_

 _Search and destroy  
_ _Search and destroy  
_ _Search and destroy_

 

~:~:~

 

13.

**Precious**

Depeche Mode

 _Precious and fragile things  
_ _Need special handling  
_ _My God what have we done to you  
_ _We always tried to share  
_ _The tenderest of care  
_ _Now look what we have put you through_

 _Things get damaged  
_ _Things get broken  
_ _I thought we'd manage  
_ _But words left unspoken  
_ _Left us so brittle  
_ _There was so little left to give_

 _I pray you learn to trust  
_ _Have faith in both of us  
_ _And keep room in your hearts for two_

 

~:~:~

 

14.

**A Kind of Eden**

The Orchids

 _A kind of Eden in my mind  
_ _A kind of heaven I will find  
_ _When I hear you say you really care_

 _But what can I do when I'm beside you  
_ _What can I say when I'm around you  
_ _All of this for just one kiss, wouldn't change it for the world_

 

~:~:~

 

15.

**California**

Mazzy Star

 _I think I'm going back to California  
_ _Somewhere distant and it's all far away  
_ _It's so far  
_ _It's so far, far away_

 

~:~:~

 

16.

**Give Me Strength**

Snow Patrol

 _Let me hold you up like you held me up  
_ _It's too long to never say this  
_ _You must know I've always thought_

 _You give the strength to me, a strength I never had  
_ _I was a mess you see, I'd lost the plot so bad  
_ _You dragged me up and out, out of the darkest place  
_ _There's not a single doubt when I can see your faces_

 

~:~:~

 

17.

**Will We Ever Learn?**

The Sugargliders

 _Will we burn?  
_ _Or will we learn?  
_ _Will we ask forgiveness?  
_ _Will we learn?  
_ _Will we shake it up a bit?  
_ _Will we learn?  
_ _Will we do it again?  
_ _Will we ever, will we ever learn?_

 

~:~:~

 

18.

**My Sister**

Tindersticks

 _Do you remember my sister?  
_ _How many mistakes did she make  
_ _With those never blinking eyes?  
_ _I couldn't work it out  
_ _I swear she could read your mind  
_ _Your life, the depths of your soul at one glance  
_ _Maybe she was stripping herself away, saying  
_ _Here I am, this is me  
_ _I am yours and everything about me  
_ _Everything you see if only you look hard enough  
_ _I never could_

 

~:~:~

 

19.

**Eat, Sleep, Rave, Repeat**

Fatboy Slim, Riva Starr, Beardyman

 _And this fucking cop just looked at me  
_ _And I don't know whether he was really saying it, but all he kept saying was  
_ _Eat, sleep, rave, repeat  
_ _Eat  
_ _Sleep  
_ _Rave  
_ _Repeat_

 

~:~:~

 

20.

**A New Life A New Family**

The Auteurs

 _A new life, a new family for me  
_ _Somebody's gonna get burned  
_ _Firemen I've never seen  
_ _Debase the place, exhume the scene  
_ _Sent to kill John Faraday_

 

~:~:~

 

21.

**Pale Blue Eyes**

The Velvet Underground

 _Thought of you as my mountain top  
_ _Thought of you as my peak  
_ _Thought of you as everything  
_ _I've had but couldn't keep  
_ _Linger on your pale blue eyes_

 

~:~:~

 

22.

**Timebomb**

Beck

 _Timebomb ticking  
_ _Timebomb ticking  
_ _It's a timebomb ticking  
_ _Tick, tick, tick, tick  
_ _We got a timebomb  
_ _We got a timebomb  
_ _We got a timebomb  
_ _Na, na, na, na_

 

~:~:~

 

23.

**Stormur**

Sigur Rós

 _Stormur í vatnsglasi  
_ _hreyfirmyndir  
_ _Hvirfilbyl í höfÞukúp  
_ _Hrislast upp bakið hrollur_

 

~:~:~

 

24.

**If I Handle You with Care**

Trembling Blue Stars

 _And if I handle you with care  
_ _It doesn't mean I don't think you are strong  
_ _You're right to believe, I'll always keep you safe from harm  
_ _I'll always keep you safe from harm_

 

~:~:~

 

25.

**A Sweet, Sweet Man (Pt.2)**

Tindersticks

 _I lay awake that night, listening to her breathing  
_ _Thinking how strange it would be  
_ _If I awoke and she wasn't there  
_ _I could feel myself, feel myself changing  
_ _No longer me, I was only a part of her_

 _She said 'oh a sweet-sweet man like you  
_ _What can I do for you?'  
_ _I said 'a sweet sweet man like me  
_ _I can only bring you misery'_

 

~:~:~

 

26.

**Never Say Never**

The Fray

 _You can never say never  
_ _While we don't know when  
_ _Time, time, time again  
_ _Younger now than we were before_

 _Don't let me go  
_ _Don't let me go  
_ _Don't let me go_

 

~:~:~

 

27.

**Better Together**

Jack Johnson

 _Love is the answer,  
_ _At least for most of the questions in my heart  
_ _Like why are we here? And where do we go?  
_ _And how come it's so hard?  
_ _It's not always easy and  
_ _Sometimes life can be deceiving  
_ _I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together_

 

~:~:~


End file.
